Queen of Hearts
by mamagrimes
Summary: The Saviors and Alexandrians are gearing up for war as Negan and Rick vow to destroy one another. As another leader enters the game and new alliances and relationships built, how will the past impact everyone's ability to make their way forward? To an unknown future that may be the answer to their prayers or the stuff of nightmares...
1. In the Beginning

**My most ambitious story yet everyone! This is definitely a multi-chapter with a slow build so bear with me as I lay down the foundation for what is to come. I hope to make Richonne and Negan fans very happy, especially those craving interactions between the three. This is based on the canon story but I've put enough of my own spin on it to make it also very AU! Enjoy!**

 _In the year 2 A.V. (Anno Vertente or The Year of the Turn), there was blood spilled between two communities. Communities of soldiers, survivors. No one remembers how the battles began. Some say that they were retribution for theft and others say they were murder. But in the end, these two powerful groups, filled with hate for each other, plotted and planned for War. These were dark days. Days when food supplies and hope were low and tempers ran high._

 _The Saviors and The Alexandrians._

 _Prepared to die while fighting to live. This was always the way of it after The Turn._

Rick peered through the truck's windshield at the road before him, eyes scanning the landscape looking for roadblocks. For signs of traps, attacks. Those bastards could be lying in wait behind any bush or tree or even in the middle of the goddamned road. They could never let their guard down.

Not anymore.

"We're heading in the opposite direction of those pricks. Should be good for now." Abe's low drawl from the driver's seat drew Rick's gaze away from the view and to his friend and companion for this vital run. They were in search for food as their supplies were running dangerously low. Their attempts at farming the land in Alexandria proved futile and yielded just a few small tomatoes.

Rick rubbed his hand over his face, exhaustion seeping into his very bones, the burden of caring for and protecting his community weighing on him.

"We won't be good until they're all dead. Every last one of them."

"Roger that. Folks at home are training. Gearing up. They know what we have to do. What's ahead of us. We just have to find food so we can build up our strength and we'll accomplish our mission."

Rick sighed at Abe's words, "It's not a mission Abraham. You know that. You saw their numbers when we were ambushed that night. This isn't going to be just one battle and we're done. We have to prepare for attack after attack after attack. We get some of theirs and try like hell to not let them get some ours. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

"Yeah they got the numbers but we've got the smarts. Those biker assholes had two brains amongst them and we splattered one of two said brains all over the woods of Northern Virginia that night."

 _Connor. The lieutenant._ Rick closed his eyes as dark memories washed over him. Sasha's sniper rifle had taken out the second in command but not before they suffered a devastating loss of their own. A loss that was so senseless. A loss that could have and should have been avoided but for a series of events that brought two groups of fighters together.

 _Daryl._ The man Rick called brother. The man who had been by his side since the beginning. The man who had always had his back.

Taken out by an arrow to the eye with his own crossbow, stolen a few days prior by one of _them_.

The Saviors. A group of thugs led by a thieving murderous psychopath determined to take everything Rick's community had. A group of killers they needed to rid this planet of.

And they would. Rick had thoughts about how they would do it. They just needed food first. They needed to get stronger. Fuel the machines that would work together and in concert to take out a group more than twice their size.

Hate had a way of making people stupid. Rick's father had always taught him that and for most of his life, he abided by that belief and worked hard not to let his emotions get the best of him. Rule him. But the world going to hell and forcing him to share it with the dead had a way of turning a lifetime of beliefs upside down and sideways.

Hate coursed through his veins now, nourished him, kept him warm at night. Hate chased away the grief and kept it at bay until the day when it would be quiet and safe to mourn.

Hate didn't make him stupid. It honed his intellect and reasoning and ability to strategize to a razor edge. It focused him. Eliminated all distractions.

Kill the Saviors. Every last one of them. Kill their leader. The man behind their violent ways. The man behind the attack that night.

 _Negan_.

"Here we are. The Mecca of canned goods. Let's hope this one was missed."

Abe's words stirred Rick out of his thoughts as the truck came to a stop in front of a wholesale food club. The store was located in a very rural section of Virginia and the hope was that it was missed or at least not emptied of its wares completely.

Stepping out into the heat of summer sun, Rick shaded his eyes with his hand as he squinted toward the windows of the store, looking for signs of the living or the dead. Following Abe up to the doors, he drew his machete out of its sheath, prepared to fight for what was within the building before him.

Everything had a to be a fight nowadays. Even for something as basic as putting food on the table.

Pressing his face against the darkened windows, Abraham let out a sigh of disgust, "Can't see shit in there. Here we go." _Bam! Bam! Bam_! Three loud knocks with his meaty fist against the door and then more waiting.

Nothing.

"Let's go. There's a can of creamed corn with my goddamned name on it." With that declaration, Abe cut the chain off of the main entrance with the bolt cutters he'd brought and led the way inside.

Despite the sun shining outside, the interior was dim due to the filth and dust on the windows muting the natural light. Rick flicked his flashlight on, swinging it in a wide arc around him. More shadows loomed in front of them and the only sounds were their boots treading across the dirty linoleum.

"Can't see dick in this hole. We need more light."

"Well this is all we've got. We'll have to make do," Rick bit out, all of his instincts on edge at the feeling they were walking into their tomb.

As they slowly made their way through the darkened store, they could finally make out the floor to ceiling shelves.

Shelves that were empty. Long empty going by the inches of dust that accumulated since.

"Fuck! God fucking DAMMIT!" Abe kicked at an empty shelf repeatedly, letting his frustration get the best of him and Rick let him go at it, not blaming him one bit. If he had the energy, he'd be kicking shelves as well.

Suddenly, moans sounded nearby and Rick swung around just in time to hack at a walker who had approached from the direction of the back office. Drawing his weapon out of the skull, Rick looked up to see at least a dozen more walkers pour out of the office, awakened from their slumber by the racket he and Abraham had made.

Backing up to the door, he heard more moans coming out from behind the shelves in front of them and they were quickly surrounded. Hearing Abe mutter more curses behind him as they quickly moved in formation, Rick wished for one day, one damned day when everything wasn't a battle.

As Abe slashed and hacked with his ax, Rick took care of the ones in front of him with his machete, the two of them moving in tandem towards the door.

"There are too damn many of them. Mother NUTS! Where the fuck they all come from?" More hacking and slashing from Abe as Rick took out three more coming at him from the right.

"They must have been dormant. Took them longer to react to our knocking. Let's remember that if we make it out of here, " Rick muttered as he swung his machete through two rotted heads in one motion. Dipping into his deeper stores of energy due to not wanting to die in a moldy and very empty store, Rick carved a path toward another exit in front of him.

"Up ahead. Stay with me Abraham. I see daylight..."

"Right behind you, Chief. These lumps of shit ain't taking me out today!" _Slash! Thud!_ "Get back you motherfuckers!"

With a last heave, Rick and Abe made it through the side exit into the welcome fresh air, slamming the door behind them, both doubling over as they caught their breaths. Rick looked over at his friend from his bent position and couldn't stop the grin from curving his mouth. Abe grinned back, walker blood caking his face. There wasn't much to smile about these days but fighting through a dozen walkers in close quarters to live to see another sunrise would do just fine.

The man observing them from a short distance smiled as he took in the battle hardened warriors who had successfully escaped the walker infested store. And they drove a truck. While he wasn't a man of faith anymore, the word providence entered his mind and wouldn't leave.

Today was going to be a good day.

 _Later that night._

"Rick! Rick wake up."

Rick was jolted out of his slumber by the urgent whisper invading his small bedroom. Eyes open, he sat up and peered through the dim pre-dawn light at the unarmed stranger standing inside his door. Flying out of bed, he drew his gun on the man and cocked the hammer back, his mind fully awake and prepared to kill.

In a matter of seconds, he took in the man to be of average height and build with long clean hair and trimmed beard and with his hands raised in the air, a small smile on his face.

"We need to talk."

 _What the hell?_

Later that morning, Rick was once again on the road, this time behind the wheel with Abraham riding shotgun and Maggie and Glenn in the backseat with Jesus between them, his hands cuffed and resting loosely on his lap.

 _Jesus._

Rick peered at their new acquaintance through the rear view mirror, scowling at the light blue eyes lit with amusement. No anxiety, no fear. Completely at ease.

Was this guy for real? Rick had given him a chance to explain himself in the kitchen with Abraham, Glenn and Maggie in attendance and was stunned to hear that Jesus had stowed away on their truck and spent the night inspecting every building in their community, including the occupied ones. He knew how many residents there were down to the last child and also knew about their rapidly depleting pantry shelves and their armory.

It was his knowledge of the weapons stockpile that set Rick back on his heels. Jesus had broken into their armory but had left the guns in their place and didn't use them on the people sleeping their beds.

Not only was Jesus some kind of stealth ninja who moved like a whisper in the night, he still apparently had his morality intact. A rare individual indeed.

Jesus had explained to Rick and his group that he was seeking out other communities for his own to do trade with. He came from a farming community with plenty of food to offer and he was very impressed with Alexandria and wanted to broker a deal between them.

The dormant Southern Baptist in Rick had him raising his eyes briefly to the heavens to thank whoever might still be up there listening.

Could this man named Jesus be the answer they were looking for?

The group wasted little time to prepare for the 25 mile trip north to Hilltop. While Abraham was the obvious choice from a battle perspective, Glenn and Maggie came along to not only vet the farming capabilities of the community but to also allow the newly pregnant Maggie to visit the physician who lived there.

As a precautionary measure, Rick cuffed Jesus for the trip but trusted his gut which said it was unnecessary.

Just as Rick turned right per Jesus' directions, he hit the brakes at the sight before him. _Holy shit._

"Where the fuck did the road go?!" Abraham pumped his semiautomatic rifle and swung his head to glare at their navigator who had raised his hands in calming gesture.

"It's okay. We're here. Pull your car over by those trees and we'll cover it up to keep it out of sight."

Rick peered out of the windshield at the 100 yards or so of destroyed road, with nothing but rubble and deep ruts left to travel over. Not even a tank could navigate it.

He stared at Jesus through the mirror once again, "If this is some kind of trap, you're a dead man. We didn't sign up for a hike. What the hell is this?"

Jesus nodded with understanding, "I totally get you being suspicious. Everything will make sense in a few seconds. Just pull over and let me show you."

Rick sighed and pulled the car over into the cover of the trees as directed and he and Abraham quickly exited the car, weapons drawn, looking for any signs of ambush. With no sounds but their own breathing and nothing in his sights, he gestured for Glenn and Maggie to exit with Jesus in tow.

"There is a brown tarp just over there. You can use it to help hide your car and then follow me to that building over there," Jesus gestured to a small wooden structure set slightly further in the woods.

After hiding the car, Rick and the group walked slowly toward the building. As they neared it, the sounds coming from within raised Rick's eyebrows and he threw another look at Jesus. Holstering his weapon, He threw the latch to the building and pulled open the double wooden doors.

Horses. Six saddled horses waiting for them.

"That's our transport to Hilltop. We've destroyed all of the roads leading there in order to prevent attacks to our walls by vehicles. That was a lesson learned in the beginning. So we either walk or ride. I'd highly recommend riding as the terrain is rather steep from here on out.

"I am not sitting my ass on one of those things. I avoided them my whole life growing up in Texas and I'm not about to start bad habits at my age." This from Abraham who looked at the horses with something akin to fear. For some reason, that made Rick smile.

Glenn and Maggie had already made up their minds and were leading the horses out, eager to get to their destination. Rick turned to Jesus with another look of warning. "No more surprises, hear me? I want you talking as we're riding. You have a lot of filling in to do."

"Agreed."

After several attempts at helping Abraham get up into the saddle, he was finally sitting stiffly on the biggest horse, his feet rammed into the stirrups and his gun slung over his shoulder. If a man could look petrified and furious at the same time, Abe was doing it.

Storing their gear on the sixth horse, their group finally picked their way over the rutted road, the horses navigating the path with ease, having been through this many times before. As they traveled down the road and then up a steady and steep incline, Jesus provided some additional details.

"We're located on a plateau, a very large plateau that is one of the higher elevations in this part of Virginia. It's ideal really. We can see for miles and miles on clear days and have full view of anyone approaching. Our town was built around a working historical farm so the ground is fertile and suitable for many different kinds of crops. We even have a small apple orchard that is doing very well. About a year or so ago, we started to scour the area for more livestock, cattle, dairy cows, goats, chickens and now have more than enough to feed our own people."

As Jesus went on to describe his community, Rick surveyed his surroundings with an eye for potential danger. With no people in sight, he took a moment to admire the lush green hillside and the peace that seemed to resonate through the area.

Maybe, just maybe, this place was what Jesus described and they might...

"Stop here. Please hand me that horn that's hanging on that branch." Jesus' request interrupted Rick's thoughts and he stopped his horse in time to witness Glenn grab what looked to be a horn used in days of old...it was actually made out of an animal horn. _What the hell was this place?_

"I have to sound a signal that it's me approaching so the archers stand down."

"Archers? Who the hell _are_ you people?" Abraham barked from his nervous perch upon the placid horse.

Jesus calmly responded, unfazed by the large man's temper. "We're people who have learned harsh lessons over time and are very cautious. And we're _very_ prepared for this world. Please let me show you." That last statement was directed at Rick.

His curiosity now fully engaged, Rick gave a terse nod and Glenn handed Jesus the horn. Raising it to his lips with his cuffed hands, Jesus blew a series of short and long tones through the instrument. After the last one echoed through the countryside, Jesus handed it back to Glenn and directed him to hang it back up and then led the way through the last copse of trees.

A few moments later, they left the forest and viewed a fortress of twenty foot high wooden walls surrounded by trenches.

Hilltop.

Impressed despite his misgivings, Rick acknowledged the hard work and genius that went into digging trenches around the community to trap approaching walkers. It was simple yet completely effective as walkers can't climb.

As a matter of fact, building a community on a plateau would make walkers an only occasional threat due to the incline being so steep. Once the existing walkers were destroyed, the chances of a herd or even a small group of walkers making it to Hilltop were slim at best. And if they did climb the hill, they'd never make it to the walls.

Rick looked up to see twenty faces peering down at him and his group. He knew those twenty residents would have had arrows pointed at them ready to fly if it weren't for Jesus' signal. These weren't scared suburbanites who had been sheltered from the outside world for almost two years. Looking into their eyes, he saw soldiers who had earned their stripes. And they had been trained well. They were organized.

Turning to Jesus, Rick found the man studying him closely, watching him take this all in. Clearing his throat, Rick gestured toward the wall and the trenches. "Who did all this? Who's your leader?"

Jesus smiled and nodded. "Give me just a few minutes and all of your questions will be answered. I promise."

The wooden bridge was lowered from the gate using a pulley system and Rick had visions of being transported back in time. He wouldn't be surprised if a knight in shining armor and a jester or two greeted them at this point.

After the bridge lowered, the large double doors of the gates swung open and Jesus led them into the town.

Rick barely heard the soft exclamations from Abraham, Glenn and Maggie as he took in everything before him.

A wind turbine. A large brick mansion. The clanging of a blacksmith at work. Stables, a mill under construction, target practice in a large open area...

It was incredible. This was a thriving community. Healthy people with jobs. Laughter. Activity.

 _They had figured it out_. Holy shit. This place had it all figured out.

Wanting to meet the leader more than ever, Rick turned to Jesus who had just hopped off of his horse, holding his cuffed hands up to Rick, more amusement making his eyes twinkle.

"This will go much better if I make introductions uncuffed."

Rick dismounted and observed the others doing the same, Abraham, practically falling off of his horse with a muttered curse. Unlocking the cuffs, Rick gestured for Jesus to precede him to the large brick mansion.

Jesus directed them to wait on the portico and Rick took the time to observe the view from that vantage point. It was true. He could see for miles and miles. Walking to the other side of the mansion, the unimpeded view continued and the soldier in Rick appreciated the safety being on top of a hill afforded the residents.

Hearing the door open behind him, Rick swung around, ready to meet Hilltop's leader. Someone who may very well be more than his equal. Someone who...

Rick's breath caught. His head tilted and eyes narrowed as his brain fought to catch up to the sight before him.

A woman unlike any he'd ever seen stood before him. Tall, slender figure encased in tight black pants and a sleeveless purple top with a brown leather vest over it. Short boots. Fingerless gloves.

And a sword swung over her back with the ease and familiarity of an old friend.

Her smooth dark skin shone in the sunlight and he took a moment to admire it. Admire her. He'd lost all objectivity and knew he needed to snap out of it. Knew he had to be a leader again. But in those few short moments, he let himself be a man. A lonely man who had had enough of hell and was tired. A man who wanted to just take a few moments to admire beauty.

Raising his eyes from the sword slung over her back, he met her eyes. Big brown eyes staring right back at him with an intensity he didn't know what to make of. Eyes that he knew in his heart and in his mind had seen death and had cried tears. But in this moment only allowed him to see what she wanted him to see.

Confidence with just a touch of amusement. It was the amusement that jolted him out of his schoolboy musings. Shaking his head slightly, Rick stood straight as the woman approached him with a sure stride, stopping when she was just a foot away from Rick.

Taking another moment to look him in the eye, the woman smiled and raised her hand in greeting.

"Welcome to Hilltop, Rick Grimes. I'm Michonne."


	2. Just in Case

**I'm so excited to slowly reveal this complex world to you. I will be moving back and forth in time as I fill in some back stories so please pay attention to the time period headers using A.V. which will indicate how far into the Apocalypse the story is. Enjoy and keep the reviews coming. They motivate me to churn these chapters out quickly!**

 _In those early days, one couldn't make it alone. There were too many of the dead ones and too much evil wandering the roads and hiding in corners. No, in order to survive, you needed to find other people. You needed walls, weapons, a system. Community. Those with community lived. Or at least lived longer than those who only had themselves. Of course, life was often an uneasy choice in the beginning..._

 **One month A.V. (Year of the Turn)**

Should she die today? It would make sense. She was tired, hungry, alone. She could make it quick, relatively painless. Or should it be painful? Yes, that would be better. She should feel pain.

 _Like her son did._

Michonne closed her eyes as she leaned against the tree trunk, weariness and grief racing through her bones and organs like an infection. She could hear the moans in the distance, the same moans that haunted her dreams, kept her from any type of worthwhile sleep.

With her eyes still closed, Michonne silently counted in her head. _Seven days_. It had been seven days since her world ended. She shook her head slightly. No, the world had ended weeks ago. Starting out as strange news bulletins about a fast spreading illness turning people into cannibals. It didn't take long for the news to turn panicky, jittery and alarming.

Not people. _The dead_. The dead were walking among us and they were eating people. Chaos ensued and the living turned into the dead like a tidal wave of horror traversing the planet. Michonne had thought she and her family were lucky to live in D.C. There would be safe shelter, right? Government facilities and infrastructure for them to ride the terror out?

She quickly brushed at a lone tear escaping from her closed eye. She wouldn't allow herself to cry because crying would give her release and she didn't deserve any easing of her pain.

They hadn't been lucky. She and her boyfriend, Mike, their son Andre and their friend, Terry had packed their belongings into backpacks and duffle bags and made their way through the dangerous streets to the nearest FEMA shelter. They found a small corner to claim as their own and for a week they survived together. Eventually, the food ran out and Michonne volunteered to venture out into the city with a few others to scavenge. Mike had begged her not to go and she ignored the panic and despair in his eyes.

She had been cocky. Certain. She was smart, fit, and she knew how to use the sword slung over her back. The sword she'd had since her parents had given it to her as a college graduation gift. She would simply get food for her family and they would figure the rest out. She'd be gone for less than a day.

And in less than a day, her world ended. In less than a day, she came back with a car filled with food and bottled water to an overrun shelter, Mike and Terry huddled in a corner, bites covering their bodies, and her son...

More tears angrily brushed away, Michonne opened her eyes and took several deep breaths, forcing herself to will the sadness away. She didn't deserve to feel sadness. This wasn't about her. She needed her memories to be clear.

Her son had been a bloody pile on the small cot Michonne had claimed for him. Her son was gone, taken from her after only three years. She'd thought she'd have a lifetime to enjoy him. Watch him grow and thrive and have a family of his own. But she had left her son in the care of his father who had sought escape from the nightmare around them by getting high and who wasn't alert enough to save their son when the dead came for them.

Michonne let the memories of that day course through her, let them feed her desire to make today be her last day. She remembered her anger, rage, shock. She remembered taking out her sword and slaying the dead around her and then watch Mike and Terry die. She recollected each of her actions afterwards. Cutting off their hands, their lower jaws, tying ropes around their necks.

And then bundling up her dead son in a blanket and carrying him out of the shelter, leading her undead camouflage behind her, their rotted scent giving her free passage through the city streets. She remembered burying her son in a park next to a garden filled with purple flowers.

Purple had been Andre's favorite color.

With those memories now clearly before her, Michonne stood up and gripped her sword, glancing at the two things swaying a short distance away on the end of the ropes tied to the tree behind her.

 _Let them rot here. Let them rot for eternity._

Taking a last breath, Michonne raised her blade and turned it towards her chest when suddenly a small white rabbit ran out from underneath the brush in front of her and stopped just a few feet away, its nose twitching with awareness.

Michonne gasped and lowered her sword, staring at the rabbit. Staggering back, she stumbled into the tree she'd been resting against, eyes wide as even earlier memories invaded her mind, taking her back to peaceful evenings holding Andre on her lap as she read his favorite book for the third time.

 _"I wanna read more Bunny, Mommy! Then I go night night, 'kay?"_

Michonne must have read that story to Andre hundreds of times and heard his request to get a bunny for a pet a hundred times more.

The tears came now. She couldn't stop them. They came and came and came, dampening her cheeks and blurring her vision. She barely observed the rabbit hopping away as she stood in the woods, remembering her son as he'd been. A vibrant, smart, loving child who adored her and who loved to squeeze every bit of life out of each day. He had been a ball of energy who recharged her batteries after a long day of work. A boy who could forget a tantrum in order to throw his arms around her neck and kiss her cheek.

Sliding down the tree, sobs wracking her body, Michonne closed her eyes again, to better see her baby as he was. To allow those visions to bury the way she had last seen him. He had been her light, had given her purpose and her life meaning beyond her education and livelihood, beyond her romantic relationship.

 _Oh Andre_. _My baby boy. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you from pain. I miss you Peanut._

Michonne lost track of time and it wasn't until the moans grew louder that she snapped out of her memories. Standing up again, she looked behind her at four of the dead rambling her way. She knew they'd walk right by, her smell masked by the things tied to the tree. She could let them walk right by her.

But she didn't.

Allowing a small smile to curve her lips, Michonne gripped her sword and decapitated two of them in short order, kicked the third in a chest and then put it down with a blow through its skull. Finally, she sliced her sword up the chest of the last one, finishing it off with a slash to the head.

This was it. _This_ is what she would do. For now, at least. She would rid this world of as many of the dead as she could so she could give the remaining humans a chance at living. To give the children, those scared, helpless children a chance to see another day.

She wasn't going to die today. She was going to live so Andre's death wouldn't be in vain. She would vanquish the rotted corpses who destroyed her world. She would help the living. She would carry on as best she could.

But she couldn't do it alone. She wouldn't last long on her own. She knew what the lack of government and laws did to people and how dangerous it made the world now. She needed people and they needed her.

Taking a deep breath, now resolute, Michonne gazed up at the blue sky above her and smiled.

"I'll see you someday, peanut. I promise. I just have to make things right."

And Michonne knew exactly where she had to go. Where she knew there would be people. People she could keep safe from the dead.

Yanking on the rope, she pulled her camouflage behind her, the desire to get to her destination quickening her steps.

 _Hilltop._

 **2 A.V (Year of The Turn)**

He was a leader of a thriving community. Highly regarded. Brave. Fearless. Cautious. Smart.

 _And he rode a horse as if born to it._

Michonne considered the bits of information Jesus had provided her in private before she went outside to meet the man she hoped to make her new ally. The horse observation had come to her as she watched him and his group approach her community.

After Jesus had sounded the horn to signal his return, Michonne had stood before her office window and gotten her first sight of what she hoped were strong and smart survivors. _Fighters_.

He rode side by side with Jesus, his seat natural, the sunlight glinting off of the pistol he wore belted around his hip. While she couldn't make out the features of his face, she took note of the shaggy dark curls that brushed his collar, his broad shoulders underneath the button down shirt and how he sat straight in the saddle.

 _Gary Cooper riding into town_ _to save the day_ was a fleeting thought tumbling through her mind and she had let a small smile cross her face as an indulgence.

Only problem was there were no more heroes. Just survivors like herself. People who had clawed their way through the chaos and hell of those early days and figured out a way to carve out a life for themselves. They were all flawed but they were resilient. Without even meeting him, Michonne felt a kinship to this fellow leader, this man who also lived behind walls and who had a system and structure in his community. Time would tell if he would earn that kinship or just be another disappointment to add to the pile.

As she now approached the silent figure standing on the portico, she noted the slight widening of his clear blue eyes as he got his first look at her. _Good_. She had surprised him. Most likely by being a woman and then by her appearance, dreadlocks, sword and all. It was funny how one could still have pre-conceived notions two years into the world going to hell.

 _Okay, Rick Grimes, let's see if you're worthy of my time._

After she greeted Rick and introduced herself, she let the moment sit. Michonne was very comfortable with silence and often used it to her advantage when sizing up others. She had lived on her own for long enough that the sound of her own breathing, the rustle of the wind were all she really needed in way of reassurance and comfort. She didn't need to fill quiet moments with chatter when she could spend them instead just appreciating the fact she was still alive.

In those brief moments, Michonne looked Rick in the eye, assessing him as he assessed her. While he briefly shook her offered hand as manners dictated, he just as quickly let it go, clearly not comfortable with turning this meeting into more than it was.

Two wary strangers sizing each other up. Evaluating one another. How would they benefit each other? How trustworthy could the other be? Have they killed? Maimed? Done unspeakable acts in order to survive?

After the handshake, Michonne noted Rick tilting his head again, his eyes slightly narrowed as if to focus more clearly on her. Almost as if he was trying to determine if she was real. Likely realizing his silence could be considered rude, he finally spoke and Michonne was taken aback by his southern drawl. _Surprise number 1_.

"Michonne. You're the leader here?"

 _Not one for small talk, are you Rick Grimes?_ Michonne allowed another small smile to curve her lips, amused by his brusque manner.

Clasping her hands loosely before her, Michonne mirrored his head tilt, taking a moment to allow the exchange to slow down and go at her pace, not his.

Finally, she allowed a friendly smile to cross her face, "I'm who the people chose to lead. And you're the leader of a community called Alexandria?"

A silent nod.

 _His social skills definitely needed work_. Michonne wondered what Rick had done for a living before. Then again, the hellish world they now occupied could rob even the most gregarious person of their ability to chat. It was quickly becoming a lost art and may soon be forgotten altogether.

Deciding to give him a break, Michonne went into host mode and gestured for Rick to take a seat at the table by the portico railing. After they were both seated, she noted Jesus leaving them to attend to the rest of Rick's group.

"We don't get many visitors anymore. It's nice to meet new people."

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"How do you know we're just visitors who are nice to meet? How do you know we're not here to scout out your community and come back later to hurt all of you?"

Michonne leaned back in her chair, relaxing with each blunt word he spoke. She respected this man's ability to cut to the chase and move past any bullshit. She returned in kind.

"I _know_ because the man I trust most in this world spent eight hours inspecting every corner of every building in your community, counted the heads of every man, woman and child, assessed your defenses, the cleanliness of your clothing, the organization of your pantry shelves, observed the fact that you have a church that you actually use and came to what I believe is the correct conclusion that you're not a band of murdering thieves bent on destruction."

Michonne leaned forward, resting her crossed arms on the small table between her and Rick.

"Instead, you are a viable community of survivors, fighters who live behind steel walls. Jesus recommended I speak with you because he believes we can do business with one another. He hasn't been wrong yet. It's on his word that I'm giving you my time. I hope you appreciate the value in that."

Rick willed his heart to beat normally but it wouldn't cooperate at the moment so he gave up and let it race. He was confounded and intrigued by the woman sitting across from him. He wanted to know all of her stories. How she started off, how she found this place, built it up, kept everyone safe. He wanted to sit here for hours and learn everything because he knew that there wouldn't be one moment of boredom or a story he'd heard before.

But that would be an indulgence. Selfish on his part. He was here to broker a deal that would provide his community with enough food to strengthen them, allow them to fight and defeat their enemy. This was business, nothing more and he needed to remember that.

Mirroring Michonne's position, Rick rested his arms on the table, meeting her gaze with a candid one of his own. "I appreciate being able to feed my people. That's why I'm here. Not to sip lemonade on the porch of an old plantation and exchange in witty conversation."

Michonne felt a laugh seek to escape and it caught her off guard.

 _Surprise number 2._ She rarely laughed. Laughter implied amusement or joy and she was too busy to allow herself to feel amusement very often.

And joy was a feeling she was resigned to never experience again.

So she buried the laugh and allowed a small smile instead. There was something about Rick's surly manner that interested her. Perhaps he reminded her of herself from a year ago. When times were still uncertain around here and she and her people were finding their way. Whatever the reason, she wanted to get to know him better and was looking forward to seeing where the day took them.

"Oh, this isn't a plantation."

"I just assumed it was. It looks like one. The grounds, the brick mansion."

"It's a re-creation that the Virginia Historical Society built about five or so years ago. A manor home created to accurately depict early 19th century living, including the furnishings, plumbing, gas lanterns. Stables, outbuildings, even a windmill. Everything to show how people lived in the 1800's. The people who had owned the land prior bequeathed it to the historical society as part of their estate."

"What about the crops?"

Michonne allowed a bit of pride to creep into her voice, "That was us. We started planting crops a little more than a year ago and now have five acres that we have a planned rotation for. Right next to a small orchard of apple trees. We're trying our hand at growing walnut trees but they're a slow go."

Rick nodded his head, impressed despite himself. A thriving farming community at the top of a hill safe from walkers. He was a bit envious actually.

"How do you know so much about the history of this place? Did you live nearby?"

Michonne considered how much to share with him then decided there was no risk in letting him know what she was before.

"No, I lived in D.C. I was here for the grand opening by special invitation and attended with some colleagues of mine. We received a special tour of the house and the grounds. I fell in love with it."

"Colleagues?"

Michonne nodded, loosely clasping her hands where they rested on the table. "Fellow professors. We all taught European history at Georgetown University."

Beautiful, educated and sophisticated. Her life had been light years from his before the world changed and now look at them. Two equals sitting across the table seeking an alliance. Rick allowed himself to relax a bit more, respect moving him to lower his guard slightly.

"Interesting. So you remembered this place after everything happened?"

"Yes, I did. What's funny is I had a conversation the night of the opening with two of my colleagues right over there," Michonne gestured to the portico railing a few feet away. "We shared our love for Hilltop and what they had created here and Tom made a joke about this being a perfect place to settle if the world as we knew it ever ended. My other colleague, Gregory, who was a bit tipsy, raised his glass and made us all toast an oath that we would meet up here should that ever came to pass. I remember laughing because I thought it was a perfect plan at the time. Tom's area of study was agriculture and Gregory's was architecture and pre-modern technology. We would make the perfect team"

Rick leaned forward, suddenly very interested, "And what was your specialty?"

Michonne smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she leaned in to whisper with a hint of glee...

"Weapons and Warfare."

 **Alexandria**

Carl raised his gun and tried to look through the sight of it with his one good eye. _His only eye._

Still blurry. _Dammit_. He'd been trying for weeks as he recovered from his injury to train his remaining eye to focus on a target. It was the eye he'd always closed before when aiming so he had to keep working on it.

 _He had to_. He had to be able to shoot again. To kill. So he could help his dad kill the Saviors. _Negan_. It was only a matter of time before the battles on the road turned into a full blown war between their two groups and Carl wanted to be on the front lines. He wasn't a kid anymore...He was going to fight and protect his home. Protect his friends and family.

Finally, his target was clear, even in the early evening light. He could see the red circle he'd marked on the tree yards away. He held his hand steady and slowly moved his finger to the trigger. It was so easy to picture Negan's taunting face as the target and he knew he would be able to pull that trigger when the time came.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front gate sliding open. Turning his head, Carl holstered his weapon and ran to the returning vehicle, anxious to hear how the trip to Hilltop went. Running up to the car, he stopped to stare at Abraham as he exited from the driver's seat. Lowering his head, Carl peered into the car, but only viewed an empty seat as Glenn and Maggie exited from the back.

"Where's my Dad?" Carl didn't stop his voice from pitching higher with the fear coursing through him. This was supposed to be a trip for food, supplies. _Where was his Dad?_

Abraham clapped him on the back, a smile creasing his weathered face. "Nothing to worry about my man. Your Dad is just wrapping up business. He'll be home soon, I promise." Abe threw his arm around Carl's shoulders, leading him away from the gate, "I'll walk you home and tell you all about this place. You'll love it."

 **Stables Near Hilltop**

Rick stood before the small window and raised his binoculars to view the road leading down from Hilltop. His backpack rested on the floor of the stable that had housed the horses they'd ridden earlier that day. He didn't know what he was looking for but, for now, squinted his eyes to help focus on any movement or activity coming from the settlement he had left an hour earlier with his group. The group who was now waiting for him within radio distance in a town a few miles down the road.

As he watched, he reflected on the remainder of his visit. After Michonne revealed that she had held a doctorate in history and had written a textbook on Medieval warfare, Rick allowed himself to be led on a tour of Hilltop and the surrounding countryside.

The crops had indeed been impressive. Planted and farmed with horse and oxen drawn plows after the diesel fuel for tractors went bad, the land proved fertile and he observed acre after acre of grains, fruits and vegetables sprouting up through the earth. Michonne explained that they were able to plant outside of the walls due to walkers being very rare at their elevation and the trenches dug around the crops kept the occasional straggler away. Armed guards accompanied the residents who harvested the crops to provide protection.

The walls, the trenches, the trained archers, the pulley system to lower the bridge, they were all Michonne's ideas. Her community was safe due to having a college professor as their leader.

A professor who carried a sword.

Rick smiled as he shook his head. He'd have to remember to ask her about that sword when they met again. They agreed to finalize their deal when Michonne came to visit Alexandria the next day.

 _There._ That's why he stayed behind. _Just in case_. Through his binoculars, he watched a lone figure riding a horse down the road from the settlement. As they came closer, he saw that it was Michonne.

Now why in the hell would the leader be riding by herself just a couple of hours before sunset? Rick grabbed his backpack and quickly left the stable to observe from a safe vantage point.

Hunkered down behind several trees, he watched as Michonne stabled her horse and then left on foot. Using all of the tracking skills Daryl had taught him long ago, Rick followed her on silent feet, careful to keep his presence unknown to her.

 _Where the hell was she going?_

About a half mile through the woods, there was a small hunting cabin located in a sun dappled clearing. He watched as Michonne approached, looking over both shoulders, her hands gripping the sheath and the sword it carried.

Suddenly the door opened and the person who loomed in the doorway made Rick's heart stop. He drew his weapon silently and took aim from the cover of the trees, forcing his hand to be steady. A moment later, rage replaced his gut churning fear as he watched his most hated enemy draw Michonne into a lingering hug, a wide smile creasing his face. He then quickly led her inside, shutting the door behind him.

A haze of red clouded Rick's vision as anger consumed him. _She knew him_. The woman he had spent a day getting to know and respect. The woman he wanted to become an ally with knew Negan, the man he wanted to kill with every breath he took.

 _What the hell was going on?_

 **A/N: I promise to get the next chapter out quickly as I know you have a lot of questions and some concerns at this point. Please don't worry. Stay with me on this one and I promise you won't be disappointed!**


	3. The Devil You Know

**This chapter is a long one so grab some caffeine before diving in...I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are greatly appreciated as they help to fuel my creative thinking!**

 _Alliances were born out of necessity but could only survive through trust and commitment and a belief in a singular strategy. In survival at any costs. When the dead outnumber the living and the living fight each other for resources, vengeance and anarchy, alliances were the only way for the few good people left to live to see another season._

 _Hilltop. Alexandria. Sanctuary. Connected through hate, history and need. How did they move forward?_ _ **That**_ _is the story that needs to be told._

 **2 AV (Two Years After the Turn): Cabin Outside of Hilltop**

After passing through the door into the small cabin, Negan continued into the room, still smiling from the impulsive hug he gave to Michonne. _God it was good to see_...Just as he turned back around, he heard the swoosh of the sword being pulled from its sheath and a second later felt the sharp prick of the blade at the base of his throat, ready to draw blood.

Immediately holding his hands up, Negan grinned at the furious woman standing before him, happy to see she hadn't grown soft since he'd last seen her.

"Hey now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Michonne tightened her grip on the sword's handle, her eyes alive with anger.

"We were _never_ friends and I don't appreciate being manhandled like a..."

Ignoring the blade pressing into his skin, Negan let out a dramatic gasp, having fun despite the threat of death.

"Manhandled? It was a _hug_. What are you, a 19th century virgin? Come on Sweetheart, lighten up. So I got carried away. Put the sword down and we'll start over again, okay? This time, I'll keep my polite distance and you can tell me why one of your Merry Men left your calling card embedded with an arrow on my front door."

Michonne took a deep breath, reluctantly seeing the sense in Negan's words. She'd called this meeting, after all. It wouldn't do her any good to kill him before they even had a chance to discuss everything. Slowly lowering her weapon, she glared at Negan for good measure, making it clear this wasn't a social visit. She'd learned long ago that this man loved using people's fear and need against them and prided herself on never falling victim to his manipulations.

She had to stay in control of this discussion and not reveal how she very much needed him.

"Sit down. We have a lot to talk about."

Negan bowed at the waist, gesturing to the simple wooden table and chairs behind him.

"After you milady."

Michonne rolled her eyes, sheathed her sword and took a seat, watching as Negan sat down across from her. In those few seconds, she observed his appearance. Still a looming presence with his six foot plus height and broad shoulders. Still handsome as sin with his laughing brown eyes, thick dark brows and flashing grin. He looked healthy and fit but she knew in her gut that he was even more hardened and dangerous. He had gone down a much darker path than hers after all.

 _Okay, Michonne. Time to make a deal with the Devil..._

 **6 Months AV (6 months After The Turn)**

Michonne wiped the blade of her sword, pleased with the day's work. She and her crew of six had spent the day walking a grid around Hilltop, methodically clearing it of walkers. They had loaded dozens of corpses into flat bed trucks and piled them into a pyre a safe distance away where they burned the bodies.

Since arriving at Hilltop a few months earlier, Michonne had found her place in the world. At least for the time being. She had been happy to reunite with her Georgetown colleagues, Tom and Gregory, and pleased to see that they had assumed leadership roles in the settlement. Well as much leadership as one could assume in these chaotic times.

With the dead still very much a danger due to neighborhoods located at their elevation before the world went to hell, Michonne volunteered to coordinate a group of hunters that would work to eliminate the threat. Gregory and Tom were grateful for her offer as they preferred to focus on the more civilized activities of turning a historical site into a functioning, sustainable community.

Hunting the dead also allowed Michonne to keep her distance from people as she wasn't ready to socialize and make friends.

She wasn't certain she would ever be ready. After all, what good were friends when death was a constant presence?

As she entered through the brand new gate entrance, Michonne observed Jesus, the one person who had managed to sneak past her emotional armor, walking quickly towards her, two large men beside him. They must be new as she didn't remember seeing them around before.

Jesus stopped in front of Michonne, a smile of entreaty on his face and Michonne had a feeling she knew where this was going before he said his first words.

"Hi there. I've got two new recruits for you."

 _And there it was_. Two more men who didn't know how to play nice with others and who Gregory wanted outside of the walls that were just now being built. Michonne's crew consisted of the social rejects, tough fighters who didn't have patience for hammers and nails and reminiscing about the good old days of Monday Night Football and unlimited data plans.

Without speaking, Michonne turned to face the two men towering over her and Jesus. She could already tell they would be trouble. Could see it in their hardened eyes and in the potential for violence their muscled arms held. Giving herself an internal shove, Michonne smiled slightly and put her hands on her hips, not offering the polite handshake that she knew these men would disdain.

"I'm Michonne. What are your names?"

The one immediately next to Jesus, a muscled giant with thinning hair and blunt features silently glared at her for long moments and then looked over at his cohort, slightly shorter but still over six feet tall and with black hair and a handsome face, for direction.

 _Interesting_. What kind of man inspired a thug to be a follower? Michonne would have to keep an eye on the dark haired one for certain.

After several long moments, the handsome one spoke, his baritone voice exuding confidence and practiced charm.

"Name's Negan and this asshole is Connor. I must say that I am extremely happy to make your acquaintance, Mi _chonne_. You look to be just the type of woman a bored and restless soul like myself needs in his life."

A grin and a slow once over accompanied his words and it took everything in Michonne to not introduce the steel toe of her boot to this guy's ass.

But that wouldn't do. She had her reputation to uphold after all. She was the calm and controlled one, saving her rage for the dead.

Giving a quick glance to Jesus that promised a discussion later, Michonne walked up to Negan so that not even a foot separated the two of them, her hands still on her hips. Looking up into his mocking gaze, she let silence intrude and settle in, the sound of their breathing the only other participant.

Right before it got uncomfortable for everyone, Michonne broke the silence with her interview questions, her tone low, collected and brooking no bullshit.

"Are you afraid of the dead?"

Negan's eyes widened slightly at her blunt question and demanding presence and allowed admiration to creep into his expression, just briefly.

"No I'm not afraid."

"How do you kill them?"

"Bullets, knives, axes, the heel of my boot and if I'm feeling nasty, the trunk of a tree."

"What if you're surrounded by them? Five or six at once? With no help on the way?"

Negan grinned and ducked his head so he could whisper his answer in Michonne's ear.

"Well then I thank the almighty for the party sweetheart. A man needs to stay in shape after all."

 _Oh lord_...this Negan was going to be a handful. But she believed what he said. He had no fear and she had a feeling he would best serve the community outside of the walls killing and...expending his energy.

Backing up a step for breathing room, Michonne turned her attention to Connor, impatient to get this interview over with.

"You feel the same way he does?"

A short nod and a muttered "Yeah" was all she received from the large man. And it was all she needed.

"Alright, boys, we'll meet back here at 0700 tomorrow. Bring your weapons of choice and provisions for the day. Dress for running. We're not going out for a picnic."

Her orders given, Michonne walked past her new recruits toward the mansion, gesturing for Jesus to follow her. After walking a distance, she heard Negan clap Connor on the back and laugh. He might have said something about being in love.

Turning to the man who she counted as one of her few friends since arriving at Hilltop, Michonne threw a thumb over her shoulder, "What's the deal with those two?"

"They arrived a few days ago with a couple of other guys. Gregory assigned them to the wall construction to earn their keep and the two of them only lasted a day before getting into fights with the other workers. They don't play nice with others"

Michonne nodded, Jesus' words echoing the thoughts she had of the two men. "If they cause trouble out there, someone could die."

Jesus looked up at the mansion, eyeing Gregory leaning on the second story portico railing, looking like a feudal lord of old.

"I know. Gregory seems to think you can keep them in line. I think he just wants them out his hair to be honest."

Michonne followed Jesus' gaze and sighed. While she respected Gregory, she had concerns about some of his decisions as he clung to notions of civilization that were quickly becoming a memory with each day of living with the dead. Turning back to her friend, she nodded her agreement.

"Okay, I'll take them but if they don't work out, we'll have to ask them to leave Hilltop. We don't give out free passes here."

"Well, if anyone can get them to fall in line, you can. I have faith in you."

Michonne huffed out a quick laugh, shaking her head, "Well I'm glad one of us does."

 **The next night**

Michonne sat down at a picnic table in the general eating area with a sigh, tired after a long day in the woods. Negan and Connor ended up being excellent additions and natural fighters so they went out further than they ever had before. She was surprised to have actually had a productive day with them as they were relatively well behaved.

Taking a bite of her sandwich, Michonne looked up to see Negan staring at her from his table a short distance away. She had caught his eyes on her throughout the day but didn't think much of it as she was used to looks while using her katana. Her expertise with it made her somewhat of a spectacle as people eased their way into this new world with more basic weapons.

Finishing her sandwich quickly, Michonne took her dishes up to the bucket for washing and then swung her sword onto her back to do her nightly patrol of the perimeter. The fences weren't quite complete and she liked to check the traps they had put up each night.

Ten minutes later, she was rounding the bend of one of the furthest points when she heard quiet footsteps behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Negan just a few feet away. Stopping, she turned to fully face him.

"Can I help you with something Negan?"

Negan walked up to her, stopping just a foot away, too close for Michonne's comfort but she refused to back up and let him see any weakness. He smiled down at her.

"It's what I can help _you_ with. I gotta say Michonne, I was very impressed with your skill out there today. You know what you're doing and you _definitely_ got my attention." He moved a bit closer, his voice lowering just a bit, "You know what else I noticed? You are a beautiful woman. _Very_ beautiful. And I am a man who appreciates beautiful women. Morning, noon and..." Negan slowly drew his finger up Michonne's bare arm in a light caress, "... _night_." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Let me spend time with you. Help you forget about this world for awhile. I promise you won't regret it."

Against her better judgment, his words and touch awakened sensations long buried and Michonne closed her eyes. It would be so easy. The easiest thing she'd done in a long time. _Just give in_. Give in to this man and forget about her responsibilities, even just for a little while. Forget about the constant threat of death around her. The stress of vigilance and the need to protect.

Opening her eyes, Michonne looked up into Negan's just an inch away and moved her hand to close over the one caressing her arm.

After a few indulgent moments, she lifted his hand away and drew it back down in front of him. Eyes still on his, Michonne took a step back and allowed a rueful smile to cross her face, acknowledging without words how close she came to saying yes.

"Every day I have regrets Negan and I can't add you to the list. But thank you for the offer."

Negan straightened up and backed away, his wide smile not quite reaching his eyes. Michonne knew she was walking a tightrope with this man but her instincts told her he wouldn't hurt her.

Let's hope this wasn't the first time her instincts failed her.

"Okay, I hear you. I hear you loud and clear. I only ask a woman once so if you change your mind, you have to come to me and we'll see if my bed is empty." With a wave, he turned and walked away and Michonne let out a breath of relief.

 **One month later**

"Fucking corpses aren't going to get within 100 yards of the walls with these traps. They can rot in someone else's fucking backyard."

"If we run out of dead to hunt, what the hell are we gonna do all day?"

Michonne rolled her eyes at the conversation taking place between Negan and Connor not twenty feet away from her. Negan used his favorite word as a noun, adjective and verb all day every day and, after fighting it in the beginning, Michonne now allowed it to be white noise. And Connor was quiet except when he felt like complaining.

She had learned to pick her battles with these two.

It turned out her recruits were hunters who were proficient with an array of weapons and who seemed to enjoy the violence of putting down the dead. While Negan continued to flirt with her, he had scaled back the level of aggressiveness since collecting several girlfriends at Hilltop.

In the past month, Michonne had started to spend more time in the community due to not having to hunt as much and she had observed a great deal. It was clear that Negan was not only a ladies' man but his circle of friends grew with each passing week. She watched him running gambling activities and more than once witnessed furtive exchanges between him or Connor and other residents. Some of those exchanges included expressions of fear and nervousness but when Michonne asked the residents if everything was okay, they couldn't reassure her quickly enough. When she asked Gregory and Tom if they had any concerns about Negan and his activities, she was met with shrugs and blank stares as they continued to focus on their build-up of Hilltop's infrastructure.

Michonne needed to get to know Negan better so she could figure out what his angle was and if his end game put her community at risk.

Grabbing a canteen of water from her pack, she walked over to where he was pounding a six foot sharpened spike into the ground, part of a network of traps they were installing around Hilltop.

"Hey, why don't you take a break with me…you've been working non-stop for an hour and the sun is hot."

Negan immediately stopped his hammering as he squinted his eyes in confusion at Michonne's request. Then, apparently assuming Michonne had fallen in line with the rest of female humanity, his confusion gave way to his typical cocky mien as he smiled and accepted the water.

"Whatever you say boss lady. Show me the way."

Michonne felt Connor's glare digging into her back as she led Negan to the shade of a nearby tree, gesturing for him to take a seat on the ground. Following his descent, Michonne relaxed against the trunk of the tree, tilting her head as she watched Negan guzzle down the water then wipe his face with the back of his hand.

"I want to apologize. I've been very neglectful in getting to know you and Connor and realized that I've been working side by side with you guys for weeks and have never asked you about yourselves."

Michonne forced a pleasant smile on her face as she felt Negan's scrutiny for what were very long moments before he finally responded.

"You know what's fucking great about this world Michonne? Never having to say you're sorry. Cuz the world where you had to apologize and bow and scrape is dead and buried. This is the new world where it's back to basics. So, we're good."

 _Wow…..he had it all figured out didn't he?_

"Back to basics?"

"Shit yeah. There are no laws, no government, no bosses screaming in your face that you're behind in your sales for the month. No traffic, no _fucking rules_. It's survival of the fittest. It's eat, drink, fuck and hope you don't die. _Basics_. My kind of world."

Michonne kept her face neutral as she didn't want to give Negan the pleasure of seeing her concern. She knew that his inability to get a rise out of her made him respect her in a strange way and she needed that for leverage.

"So you don't mind sharing the world with the dead? Not knowing if today could be your last day?"

"Darling, I sold used cars for a living. I was sharing the world with the dead for many years before they were that in fact." Negan curled his hand into a fisted and tapped it on his knee. "You have no idea what it's like to try to squeeze money out of idiots who can't cough up the payment for a piece of shit sedan on a six year plan. Or what it's like to have to kiss the fat ass of some sweaty leech who somehow managed to be your boss because his sister was fucking someone at corporate."

Negan took another swig of water and peered up at the treetop as he recounted his memories, "Every day I was surrounded by losers who had given up the fight. People who were just getting by. Making just enough to pay for their porn or their trip to the Jersey shore. _Every goddamned day_.

And I hated them. I hated every single one of them because I was forced to breathe the same air and walk the same pavement as people _who didn't get it_. Who hadn't figured it out."

"Like you did."

"Hell yeah. I had it all figured out back then. Before the world went to shit. I just couldn't do anything about it because of the whole civilization thing and avoiding prison. Now Connor? Connor and I grew up together in the same piece of shit Baltimore neighborhood. He lived life his way and spent ten years doing hard time because of it. I got him a job washing cars when he got out and he's been my loyal shadow ever since."

"So what about now? You still have it figured out?" Michonne tucked away that fact about Connor being a convicted felon. He hadn't stepped out of line yet but he could be a loose cannon.

Negan gave Michonne a lingering stare.

"And now….now I'm sitting in the sunshine next to a beautiful woman with no clock to punch, no bills to pay and no rules to obey but the ones I set for myself."

Michonne had heard enough. She stood up, needing the advantage of height for her next words.

"That's where you have it wrong Negan. There _are_ rules. You're living in a community with families, _children_. We are building something here and rules are included. You need to understand that."

Negan smiled as he looked up at Michonne. She was the most interesting thing in the hick town he had settled in so he'd let her have her little win. _For now_.

"I understand Sweetheart. I was speaking in generalities of course. I've been a good soldier for you after all haven't I?"

Michonne tilted her head as she returned his smile with a steady gaze, "Yes, Negan, you've been a good soldier. Let's just keep it that way okay?"

Negan stood up and took a step forward, looming over Michonne with a cocky air. Raising his hand to his forehead, he gave her a salute and with an "Aye Aye Captain" walked back to his trap building.

 **Later that night**

"Michonne, I'd like to thank you for your efforts clearing the area for us. You and your team have done an outstanding job."

Michonne took a sip of her lemonade as she nodded at Gregory's accolades. The three former professors dined together a couple nights a week to keep each other apprised of their activities. While Michonne appreciated the value in sharing information, she couldn't fully relax and let herself socialize. Not when they were responsible for almost a hundred residents, most of them filled with fear and incapable of protecting themselves should anything go wrong. Hell, many of them still believed the government was going to swoop in with a solution even though the helicopters stopped flying more than two months ago.

But she understood duty and looked at these dinners as part of hers.

"Thank you. I think we've got just about all of the ones who lived here before. My hope is the elevation will help deter others from reaching us. They don't climb well and should stick to roaming on flat terrain."

Tom chuckled as he poured himself some wine, "I'm amazed at how much you learned about the dead before you found us Michonne. It's remarkable actually. And we're grateful for it. Your expertise allows me to focus on getting our farming set up and Gregory to get the windmill working and build us more lodging." He sent a glance at his former colleague and raised his glass to him, "And leading us of course. Every community needs a leader."

Michonne nodded her agreement with Tom's statement and used it to broach the subject most on her mind. "I couldn't agree more. And every community needs to be _safe_. We're on our own now. The military is most likely gone. There are no police and there is no government. We have to fend for ourselves. Now that my work is done outside the walls, I'd like to focus on building up our defenses here."

Gregory's brows drew together with his frown, "I thought you just said we're safe. The dead can't make the climb."

" _They're_ not my concern. Gregory, the world as we know it is gone. Yes, we're tucked away on the top of this hill but, trust me, it's chaos down below and the ones who survive it won't have our best interests at heart. "

Gregory poured himself another glass of wine, his shoulders moving with his quiet laughter. "Ah Michonne, you just can't get your schooling out of your head can you? It's all war, battles and weapons with you isn't it? It always has been." He raised his glass in salute.

"Have it your way my dear. The defenses are yours."

 **Three months later**

"That's it. You're getting the hang of it now, Rachel." Michonne patted her archery student on the shoulder as she moved to the next one in line at the range she and Jesus had set up. She was proud of Rachel, a forty year old former accountant who had jumped at every shadow and noise at the beginning and was now one of her top archers, hitting the bullseye with ease.

They had come a long way with building their defenses and Michonne had found herself fully absorbed into the community, even finding herself making friends.

She and Negan continued to occasionally work together on the walls and traps around the land earmarked for farming but he was going out on more and more runs lately and spending more time with his own group of cohorts, large silent men and a few women who had become hangers on. There hadn't been any fights or complaints so Michonne left him alone as he was still a valuable contributor, bringing back supplies from the surrounding towns.

Looking at her watch, Michonne estimated that Negan and his crew would be returning from his run within the hour, this one for much needed medical supplies. They now had their very own doctor, picked up by Jesus on one of his recruiting runs and he was in the process of setting up an infirmary in one of the trailers they had moved onto the property last month.

 ** _Beeeeep!_**...Out of nowhere blared a loud horn outside of the main gate right before a large delivery truck crashed through, hitting several residents unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place.

Running toward the truck, Michonne shouted orders to the screaming residents to find their weapons and get to shelter. Within seconds, the back of the truck sprung open and dozens of walkers invaded their community, heading straight toward the panicked men and women running about.

Michonne's heart raced as she drew her katana out and started hacking away at the dead, one of her many nightmares coming true.

 _Not again. This can't happen again. How?_

As she and a team of brave fighters fought, she spotted Tom and Gregory looking down in horror from the second floor balcony.

In that moment, their bad day got much worse as a large group of men came storming in, their eyes crazed and their actions frenzied. Michonne watched as they hacked and slashed at some of the residents, killing with no compunction.

 _We're all going to die today. There aren't enough fighters...Dammit..._

Bam! Bam! Bam! Automatic gunfire sounded throughout the community and several of the marauders fell, their lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, a grisly letter 'W' carved into every forehead.

 _Negan_. Thank God.

Negan and his crew had returned from their run and he and Connor both used their guns, two of the few they had, to finish off the invaders as Michonne and her fighters continued to kill the dead. Once the bullets ran out, Negan pulled out his ax and started to hack away and Michonne lost sight of him in the crowd.

During the melee, she briefly spotted Tom and Gregory watching from the ground floor and wondered at their poor judgment to come downstairs but didn't have time to dwell on it as she had more urgent matters to attend to.

Praying they didn't lose anymore to the dead, Michonne dipped into her reserves of strength and lost track of how many of them she put down but she was determined to not go without a fight.

Finally, the last moan had stopped, courtesy of a machete to the skull by Jesus who had been fighting in formation behind her and Michonne doubled over in exhaustion, covered in blood and other matter.

After she caught her breath, Michonne took in the devastation around her. The gate and the wall surrounding it was destroyed, ten or so intruders lay dead on the ground, all shot in the head. And dozens of walkers littered the immediate area, all the way from the gate to the mansion.

The mansion.

Squinting her eyes to see more clearly, Michonne witnessed a small circle near the portico steps, residents covering their mouths in horror and shock. Running up to the circle, Michonne broke her way through and stopped...stunned by what she saw.

Tom and Gregory were both on the ground, their throats torn out and eyes staring sightlessly up to the sky.

Michonne let out a cry of "No!" as she knelt between them. How could this happen? Why hadn't they stayed upstairs where they were safe? They had never learned how to use weapons, delegating those duties to the other residents. Why did they come downstairs? _Why?_

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Jesus crouching beside her, mirrored grief in his eyes. Looking down at the small knife in his hands, she closed her eyes and nodded, then opened them to witness Jesus pushing the knife through the skulls of her former colleagues, preventing them from turning.

Michonne slowly stood up, not bothering to stop the tears from falling, still in shock over what had happened. After a few moments, the weeping around her brought her back to the situation at hand. She looked around once again and saw more fallen residents, people who had lost their lives to evil and the dead today.

Would the death never stop?

"Michonne, we need to talk to you. Quickly, please." Michonne turned toward Jim and Maddy, two of her archery students, standing a foot away, rage in their eyes.

"What is it?"

Jim spoke first, pointing at the fallen leaders on the ground nearby. "We saw it happen. We saw Tom and Gregory get attacked."

"You saw them get bit."

Pam shook her head, "Not just that. We saw what happened before. Tom and Gregory were on the porch and we saw _him_ ," pointing to Negan, who was near the gate putting down the fallen residents to make certain they wouldn't turn. "He was right near them. Negan and Connor were there, just a few feet away. There were only two dead ones approaching and Negan let them right by without stopping them. He let them attack Gregory and Tom." Maddy grabbed Michonne's arm, angry tears falling. "He _smiled_ Michonne. I saw him smile."

Eyes widening in horror, Michonne let rage fuel her walk to Negan and Connor, noting how quickly five or six of their friends, large men with weapons, closed rank behind them.

Enough, Goddamit. _Enough_.

Negan stopped what he was doing and sheathed his knife as Michonne stormed up to him, "Whoa, where's the fire sweetheart?"

Unsheathing her sword, Michonne laid the point of it on his chest, taking satisfaction at wiping the smile off of his face as his hands raised in the air.

"You allowed Tom and Gregory to get bit. Get their throats torn out and you did nothing. Why Negan? _Why?_ "

Negan lowered his hands and slowly surveyed the residents who were gathering around them.

"Why did I let our esteemed leaders meet their end today? Because it was _supposed_ to happen Michonne. Haven't you figured anything out yet? The weak don't make it anymore. The weak die and they cause _others_ to die. That's _it_. Those idiots never even picked up a knife except to cut the meat that we hunted and someone else cooked for them. They stopped being useful once we got power from the wind turbine and our shelters were built. I did you all a favor today by letting fate have its way with them."

Negan backed up a step, towards his men, three of whom had pistols in their hands.

"Don't you see? Now that they're gone, this place can have _real_ leadership. A leader who can keep everyone safe. Who can kick the ever loving shit out of the crazies who make their way up here and keep the dead at the bottom of the hill. A leader who knows how this world operates now."

Michonne let a shocked laugh escape her while stepping forward to once again touch her sword to his chest.

"You? Is that who you're suggesting lead us? You and Connor?"

"Nah, just me. Connor will be my bodyguard. I hear leadership is dangerous these days. You just never know..."

"You cocky son of a bitch. You're done here. I should run you through right now..."

Suddenly the three men with guns cocked their weapons and aimed them at Michonne, drawing her eyes briefly from her target.

"Michonne, let's be reasonable. I don't want you hurt. You're a vital part of this community. I need you by my side, helping me run this place. Come on, you're outnumbered. Three guns beat one sword, even if you are a fucking samurai with it."

She could run him through right now and save Hilltop from ever having him as its leader. But then she would die and who knows what chaos would result between Negan's men and her people.

Her people... _Dammit_...

Just as Michonne started to lower her sword, Maddy's voice sounded behind her, certain and fierce.

"But do three guns beat twenty arrows _asshole_?"

Michonne whipped her head around and was stunned to see her archers, the students she had been working with these past few months, standing in formation in a circle around Negan and his men and herself, the other residents behind them.

They were a sight to see. Arrows notched and bows drawn. Their stances straight, hands steady and eyes on their targets.

Michonne raised her sword again to Negan's chest and allowed a small smile to curve her lips, pleased to see doom enter his eyes at last. His men dropped their weapons and held their hands up.

"You're _done_ Negan. You're not fit for leadership here. Not among the people who care about _rules_. Who care about _civilization_." She turned to Jesus. "Get these men enough supplies for a few days."

Lowering her sword, Michonne walked right up to Negan, taking pleasure at his serious expression and the loss of his cocky air. "You once told me that you had figured it all out. That you knew how this world worked. I'm giving you the chance to prove that wasn't just a line of bullshit. We're going to take you and your five buddies twenty miles out and you'll have to take it from there."

"You're not going to kill me?"

"I'm not going to kill you. I know I'm going to have to take a human life someday but it's not going to be here in front of people who are trying to hang onto their humanity. Nah, kicking you out and releasing you to the wild makes it right, don't you think?"

Negan stared down at Michonne for a long time, an almost baffled look on his face. It was as if her clemency had thrown him for a loop and he didn't know how to react. Suddenly realizing his men were witnessing the exchange, Negan composed himself and chuckled.

"Sure sweetheart, right as rain. Right as fucking rain."

An hour later, two vans left, driven by a team of their strongest fighters, Negan and his men handcuffed in the back. Michonne turned back from the destruction of the gaping hole where the gate had been to find most of the Hilltop community gathered near the steps to the mansion, many still weeping from the attack and others silently looking around with concern and worry in their eyes.

Michonne made her way through the crowd and climbed the steps, to where Jesus was waiting for her. They had a great deal to figure out. Just as she made it to the top step, Jim's voice pealed out over the crowd. "Michonne! Are you our new leader?"

Michonne heard the crowd murmuring in reaction and looked over at Jesus, who gave her a supportive smile. Turning back to the crowd from her vantage point on the top step, she responded with the only answer she could.

"Since the first day I arrived, I wanted nothing more than to keep this place safe. That was my job. Keeping the dead at bay and giving this place a chance. That hasn't changed today. That's really all I want, to keep you all safe. The next leader of Hilltop should be chosen by all of you. It's what we did in our old world and it's how we should continue on in our new one."

Jim smiled and then shouted, his voice, confident and sure, "All in favor of Michonne as our new leader, say 'Aye!'"

A resounding 'Aye' echoed through the community as a unanimous vote was given. Michonne's eyes welled up and her heart felt too full for her chest. She never thought she could feel this way again. Feel as if she belonged. Was needed. But these were _her people_.

And she would never fail them again.

Jesus walked to her side and shook her hand, his words loud enough to be heard in the back row of the crowd, "The people have spoken as they say. So, Michonne, what's the first order of business?"

Michonne looked out over the crowd and then up to the blue sky, resolve straightening her spine and carrying in her tone.

"We bury and mourn our dead. We rebuild and we resolve to never let this happen to us again."

As the crowd shouted their accord, Michonne nodded and promised herself to honor their faith in her by becoming the leader they needed. The leader who would die protecting them and their home.

 _Here we go._

 **1 Year AV (One year After the Turn)**

"Michonne, this envelope was wedged in the fence. It's addressed to you."

Jesus' approach interrupted Michonne's inspection of the trenches being dug around the crop fields. Taking the envelope from him, Michonne removed a handwritten note:

 _Hey Beautiful Lady,_

 _I found people just like me. A shitload of them actually. Who knew there were so many assholes out there in the world?_

 _I did. I always knew this world was meant for people like me. And now I have plenty of company. I'm setting myself up as King Shit and doing just awesome, thanks for asking._

 _Here's the thing. I'm going to leave you alone. I like knowing you're living and breathing because it makes this shit hole of a planet more interesting. Maybe our paths will cross again, maybe they won't. But I'm going let you build your little fairy tale kingdom in peace._

 _Just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours._

 _Now my mama raised a gentleman so I'm leaving you a map to my place. You tuck it away for safekeeping, you hear? If you ever need a real man to take care of you or your business, you come get me._

 _I guess I owe you one, seeing as how my head is still attached to my neck and I_ _always_ _pay my debts._

 _Oh! And I have a name for my new digs. It's fuck full of irony, just like I like it._

 _The Sanctuary. Has a nice ring now doesn't it?_

 _Take care of yourself, Sweet Michonne. And know that I'm dreaming of taking care of you all night every night._

 _Sorry. Couldn't resist._

 _Negan_

Beneath the note was a crude map of the area, showing the path to Negan's new community, thirty miles southwest of Hilltop. Michonne shook her head, impressed despite herself. The bastard had done it. Well, as long as he honored his pledge in the letter, he'd keep his head on his neck. If not?

They'd be ready for him. Michonne would make sure of that.

 **2 Years AV (Cabin Outside of Hilltop)**

"You know Michonne, this little meeting couldn't have come at a better time. I'm guessing you need my help and I could sure use yours."

 _Can nothing in this world ever be simple_? Michonne sighed and leaned back in her chair, prepared for anything at this point.

"I thought you were King Shit. What could you possibly need from me?"

"Ha! You liked that, huh? Yeah I thought you would. Anyway, I'm having some trouble with a prick just south of here. Stuck his nose in my business dealings and decided to take matters into his own hands. Long story short, shit was stolen, Connor died and the prick's lieutenant died. We're now pissing in each other's back yards while gearing up for the real deal. I could sure use your backing."

"Negan, I didn't come here to help you with your turf wars. I'm calling in the debt you said you owed me. That's what I need to talk about."

"Aw come on sweetheart. You'll love the challenge. He lives behind big walls like you do. Except his are steel. Yeah, real brave prick he is, living behind steel walls."

Michonne thought she was prepared for anything but she was wrong. Her heart dropped and she closed her eyes, exhaustion suddenly taking over.

"What's his name? The man you're fighting?"

"Rick fucking Grimes."

Michonne felt hysteria bubble up but she buried it deep and simply released a short chuckle, indulging herself for a brief moment.

"Of course. _Rick Grimes_. Okay Negan, let's start at the beginning."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Michonne made her way back to the stable, she took several breaths of the fresh air around her, glad to be out of that cabin and relieved to have a successful deal struck.

 _One down, one to go._

Negan had been livid at the idea of entering into an alliance with his sworn enemy but relented once he knew the whole story and understood what Michonne was trying to build. Considering how much thinking on her feet she'd had to do with the unexpected development of her allies battling one another, Michonne was happy with what she had managed to salvage.

As she entered the stable, she allowed a small smile to curve her lips. Once she visited Rick in Alexandria, she would be able to...

 _Click._

Michonne's head swiveled towards the sound of a hammer being pulled back and she watched as the barrel of Rick's Colt Python materialized out of the dark corner of the stable.

"Put your hands up and turn around. _Turn around_." Rick's whispered demand echoed in the room like a shot, anger giving his words an edge and urgency that Michonne knew she needed to heed.

She raised her hands and slowly turned around, her back facing Rick.

Rick forced his hand to be steady and keep Michonne as his target even as her silent acquiescence surprised him.

When _wouldn't_ this woman surprise him?

With his left hand, he grabbed the hilt of her sword and slowly drew it out of the sheath on her back. He buried the feelings of guilt at taking the weapon from her and gripped the sword tightly in his hand as he pointed it to the ground.

Michonne closed her eyes as her mind raced through the events of the day in order to determine her next course of action. Turning slowly to face Rick, her hands still up in the air, she observed his jaw clenching and his eyes glittering with anger, his gun inches from her face and her sword clenched in his other hand.

 _Surprise number 3_. She had underestimated this man. His intelligence, his skepticism **and** his courage.

If she lived beyond the next five minutes, she wouldn't make that mistake again.

Using silence as the only ally she had in the quiet room, she waited for Rick to speak. She didn't need to wait very long.

"Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you where you stand."

 _Here we go. Leap of faith time Rick Grimes._ Michonne took a breath and a chance.

"You need me. We…we need each other."

Rick's anger slowly dissipated as he stared into Michonne's brown eyes. Eyes without guile. Without fear. Eyes that met his own with the certainty of her mission.

Letting out a tired sigh, Rick lowered his gun but kept the hammer cocked… _just in case_.

"Start talking."

 **Phew! Thanks for sticking it out to the end as I shared the back story of how Michonne and Negan met. Now the fun really begins...**


	4. A Shared Enemy

_In the early days, when survival was never guaranteed, numbers mattered. How many soldiers you had. How many weapons you could use. How many miles separated_ _ **you**_ _from_ _ **them**_ _._

 _And how much time you had to prepare for the fight._

 _True leaders knew how to gather and prepare their forces in short order. True leaders knew how to assess their enemy based on the smallest of details. Wars were won over the flicker of an eye._

 **(2 AV) Stable Near Hilltop**

"Start talking."

Michonne exhaled a small breath of relief as Rick lowered his gun but she knew her next words were key if she was going to avoid once again looking down that barrel.

"I didn't know you and Negan were fighting against each other until tonight. I met with him to gain his alliance just as I am trying to gain yours."

"He's a killer."

"I need a killer, Rick. _We_ need a killer."

"I will _never_ align myself with that psychopath. His people _killed my best friend_. Shot him in the eye with his own damn weapon. That _they_ stole."

Michonne's heart ached at the pain in Rick's eyes. His grief was real and she felt anger well up in her at the ugliness this new world had created and allowed to flourish. Would it ever end? Even for just a little while?

Relaxing her stance, Michonne lowered her voice to a softer tone, "I'm very sorry Rick, I truly am. And I respect that you will not forget or forgive. I'm not asking you to. All I'm asking for you to do is help me prevent more death. More suffering. I'm asking you to join your community to mine and, yes, to Negan's. Just for a little while."

"Why? When I visited you today, I thought you were trying to build connections just in case. Trade your food for our soldiers but I know now it's more. Why do we have to align with murderers and thieves?"

Michonne put her hands on her hips and looked to the ceiling as if seeking help. Rick would have felt sorry for her if her wasn't so angry with the knowledge that she wanted to partner with his enemy. Wanted _him_ to partner with his enemy. For that, he would force her into a corner, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.

Finally, she lowered her eyes and looked into his for several seconds, seeming to come to a decision. He refused to look away, even while feeling the weight of her weapon in his hand and feeling weariness take over the anger that was always present these days. He wasn't going to let big brown eyes sway him even an inch. Not when his family's well being was at stake.

No matter how beautiful those eyes were.

"I owe you the full story and I regret not sharing it with you during your visit. I thought there would be more time and we could talk after I assessed your community, but that didn't work out and I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, seeming to gather courage and continued in a stronger tone that brooked no argument.

"Come with me back to Hilltop. I want you to meet someone. Once you know everything, my hope is that you'll feel differently about the alliance. _Please_ Rick, it's important. Not only to my community but to yours."

She didn't even know she did it. She was completely unaware of the impact her face and her eyes had on him and Rick had to make certain to keep it that way. This was business, nothing more. _Just business_.

Rick held out his hand, "Give me your sheath. I'll keep your sword for now. You've got your second chance, Michonne, but you better make the most of it or you're going to have an even bigger problem on your hands."

As Michonne pulled her sword sheath over her head, she willed her heart beat to slow down. What was it about his raspy southern drawl saying her name that made flutters appear out of nowhere? She was responsible for an entire community but her heart could care less about that danger. Instead it reacted to this man, practically a stranger, as if they were old acquaintances.

 _Intimate acquaintances._

Handing the sheath to Rick, Michonne collected herself and forced an impersonal smile to curve her lips, "Thank you Rick. You won't regret this, I promise."

Rick was silent as he holstered his gun and swung her weapon and sheath over his head. Michonne observed her sword, her constant companion for the past two years, resting on this man's back. It should have bothered her but it didn't. Not even a bit. She was pulled out of her musings as Rick drew a two way radio from his utility belt and, while maintaining eye contact with her, pressed the button to speak.

"Abraham."

"Yeah boss."

"I'm good for the night so go home. I don't want you on the road after dark. If I'm not back by noon tomorrow, you know what to do."

"Roger that. Watch your back. Over."

Michonne was impressed. Not only had Rick stayed behind to spy on her community, he was smart enough to have his group wait in their car nearby as a contingency. There was no time for niceties though as Rick gestured for her to get on her horse.

"After you."

Michonne swung herself up into the saddle and barely had time to move to the front of it before Rick swung on behind her.

 _Right behind her._

Michonne's eyes widened as she realized how riding together forced them within very intimate proximity while cradled in the saddle. Rick's legs straddled her hips and her back leaned into his chest. _Good lord in heaven._

Silently reciting the counties in Georgia in order to distract himself from having this woman cradled intimately in front of him, Rick grabbed the reigns and dug his heels into the horse's side, willing the trip to go by quickly.

With Rick taking control of the reigns, his hands brushed against her hips with each stride the horse took. Michonne could feel the heat emanating off of him and tried to lean forward so she wouldn't touch him.

Touching him in any way seemed to do crazy things to her heart rate and body temperature and she smiled to herself.

 _Well, it looks like I'm still a woman after all_. After so long without physical intimacy, Michonne had wondered if that part of her life was behind her. Her body was stating an emphatic 'No' on this moonlight ride with a man she had met not twelve hours earlier.

"Michonne, relax. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Just sit naturally or you're going to confuse the horse."

He thought she was afraid of him? Well that was probably better than knowing the truth, right? With a resigned sigh, Michonne relaxed and allowed her back to rest against Rick's muscled chest, closing her eyes as awareness coursed through her body.

Rick almost groaned out load at the contact and his mind forgot all of the Georgia counties.

Including the county he had lived in his whole life.

"Where did you learn how to ride a horse?" Keep her talking and he'll hopefully be distracted from the feeling of her perfect ass moving between his legs with each step the horse took.

Start talking and stop feeling the rumble of his voice touching your back. _Get a grip Michonne._

"I learned after settling here. We knew gas had a shelf life so a group of us went out to gather horses pretty early on. Fortunately, there were folks familiar with the area and knew where the nearby stables were. I can tell you that I was far from being a natural and it took a good long time before my horse and I came to an understanding."

 _And now she rides as if born to it_. Rick really needed to find something this woman wasn't good at so she could be human like him.

"How about you? You seemed pretty comfortable on that horse you rode in on…"

Just then, their horse started the steep climb to the community and Michonne slid back into Rick with the movement. He heard a mumbled apology from her and couldn't stop his hand from going around her waist to steady her position.

"It's okay. Just relax. We're almost there." Why he felt the need to lower his voice to barely above a whisper, he had no idea, but considering their positions put his mouth an inch from her ear, that was all he needed.

Michonne feared that her heart was going to beat out of her chest. Not only was she seated as intimately as she'd ever been in front of another human being, she was accosted by Rick's southern drawl practically murmured into her ear.

 _God, I am only human. I know I may have fooled you these past couple of years, but I am just a human and need you to hurry this horse up so I can remember what I need to do here._

Needing to take control of the situation, Rick asked the one question he knew would serve as a verbal cold shower.

"Tell me how you met Negan."

Ten minutes later, a sober, clear headed Rick now had a better understanding of Michonne's and Negan's history together and he was happy to hear she booted him and his band of thugs to the curb a year ago.

After recalling her frustrating relationship with Negan, Michonne was once again focused on the task at hand and grateful for the distraction. As they rode up to the gates, she called out to her guards standing watch and they were allowed access a minute later.

As Rick drew the horse to a halt inside, he saw Jesus approach at a fast walk with a questioning look for Michonne.

 _Yeah, this wasn't part of the plan, was it buddy? Surprise._

After they both dismounted, Michonne walked over to Jesus and laid a hand on his arm, murmuring something quietly that seemed to appease him as he nodded and walked ahead of them towards the mansion.

Michonne turned to Rick and gestured for him to follow her as one of her guards took the horse away.

As they entered the mansion, Rick observed Michonne assume her mantle of leadership, standing straighter, removing any uncertainty from her expression as she requested beverages of the woman who met them at the door and greeted the two men they passed while heading toward the library.

Did she even realize how her very presence demanded respect? How much her community loved her? Rick wanted to know every story, every moment that she experienced with her people that had earned her their devotion.

"Let's sit near the fireplace and be comfortable," Michonne gestured toward the roomy leather club chairs set at the end of the two story high library. Rick thought of Carl as his eyes ran over the hundreds of books shelved around the room and he anticipated his son's reaction at the abundance of reading material.

 _You're getting ahead of yourself Grimes. There may never be an alliance and Carl may never see this place._

Just as they had settled into their chairs, Michonne gave him a reassuring smile but whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a knock at the door. Michonne nodded at him, anticipation lighting her eyes and then she walked back across the room to answer it.

Curious, Rick stood up as Michonne opened the door and greeted a young girl with a whisper in her ear that caused the girl to nod her head slowly. Placing an arm loosely around her shoulders, Michonne escorted their visitor further into the room, looking up at Rick with a smile almost of entreaty. As if to communicate to him to go easy.

"Rick, I'd like to introduce you to Lydia. She's the reason you're here."

 **The Sanctuary**

Negan closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the cushioned back of the lone chair in his bedroom, tired after the long trip home from his meeting with Michonne.

 _Michonne._

He didn't realize how much he had missed her until he saw her again. What was it about that woman that distracted him? Put him off his game? He chuckled softly. It was probably the fact that she could kick his ass if she put her mind to it yet was still an extremely hot _piece_ of ass.

Opening his eyes, Negan sobered as he stared at the bare wall in the silent room. _No_ , he wouldn't put her in the same category of the women he'd filled his spare moments with. She was better than that, _more_ than that. He knew it. He'd known it from the first moment he met her and she assumed management over him and Connor without a flicker of fear.

And, now, a year after banishing his ass, she wanted him to enter an alliance with his enemy. Removing his boots, Negan shook his head. She had a fuck ton of cajones joining up with two groups about to go to war with each other. He understood her reasoning but it was still a risk for her.

But for him, it was an opportunity he would be a fool to walk away from. He would get a truce, a chance to strengthen his group, all while getting to know his enemy, that prick Rick Grimes, better and figuring out his weaknesses. And all while getting back into Michonne's good graces. Win, win and fucking win.

The door opened and his favored wife, Sherry, poked her head in, "I heard you come back. Want some company?"

Negan stood up, his month curving into his signature grin as he assumed the persona Sherry was accustomed to. Pulling his shirt over his head, he sauntered over to his wife as she shut the door behind her and turned toward him with hunger in her eyes. Negan wasn't certain if the hunger was sincere or if she faked it to keep her high status in the community, and to be honest?

He didn't give a shit.

The perks of leading a community after the world went to hell is you got to make up the rules to suit your needs. And Negan wanted sex often and at his convenience so he had made damn sure the attractive young women knew that their membership in his community came at a price. If they didn't want to pay it, they were welcome to take their chances out on the road.

He hadn't been turned down yet.

Wrapping his arm around Sherry's slender waist, he brought her flush against his body, inhaling her scent and confirming that she had showered before joining him. That was another rule. His women knew to be clean and sweet smelling before coming to his bed. He'd had enough sweaty fucks in bar parking lots accompanied by the odor of alcohol and cigarette smoke in his prior life and he never wanted anything close to that in the new life he'd set up for himself.

Palming Sherry's bony ass, his distracted brain flashed back to his greeting with Michonne earlier in the evening when he hugged her. He had behaved and kept his hands at a polite level on her back but he knew that had his hands wandered, they would have been able to grab a luscious handful. That ass had been one of his favorite views during his days at the hippie colony she had called home and he had thought of it often in the year since.

Sherry's moans disturbed his memories and annoyed him enough that his generosity flew out the window. He typically liked to pleasure his women as they pleasured him but once in awhile, when the mood struck, he asserted his power and reminded them of their place.

Loosening his hold on Sherry, he gave her a charming grin as he backed them both to the chair where he took a seat and leaned back, his legs spread slightly.

Sherry looked down at him lounging in the chair and put on a sexy smile that failed to reach her eyes. Negan knew this wasn't her favorite act but, as always, he didn't give a shit. His head falling back onto the chair, he closed his eyes and let his mind form a much more appealing picture.

His wife's fingers unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his zipper, freeing his hardened cock. As she drew it into her mouth, Negan smiled as he imagined another pair of lips, ones much fuller, take him in and that beautiful image hardened him even more, excitement making him grip the arms of the chair as he heard the gasp from the woman on her knees before him.

It was good to be King. Fucking great actually.

 **Hilltop**

Rick tried to school his features into a pleasant expression as he observed the teenage girl huddled close to Michonne near the door. She looked extremely nervous, her eyes darting everywhere in the room but him and her fingers fidgeting where they clasped together at her waist.

Standing near the chairs and making no move to close the distance between them, Rick curved his mouth into what he hoped was a friendly smile. "Hi Lydia. I'm Rick Grimes. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Michonne smiled slightly and her eyes lit with approval which made Rick start to stand taller with pride until he remembered that he wasn't here to impress her. He was here to get answers. Michonne gently nudged Lydia towards the fireplace where he was standing and he took in the girl's appearance.

She was tall, very slender and close to Carl's age. Her limp blonde hair and the circles under her eyes told him she was malnourished and possibly neglected which wasn't surprising considering the world they lived in now. But she had fine features and light blue eyes that gave her the promise of beauty someday once she put some weight on her and had many nights of solid sleep.

As Lydia and Michonne approached where he stood, Rick sat down so as to not loom over the girl who was clearly not comfortable meeting new people. Michonne gently settled Lydia into the chair across from Rick and then perched herself on its arm so she could retain a comforting hand on Lydia's shoulder.

"Lydia, this is the man I told you about. He leads a community who may be able to help us. Before he agrees though, he needs to understand what we're fighting against. I'd like him to hear first hand from you. Can you please tell him your story? And how we found you?"

His curiosity now fully peaked, Rick turned his gaze from Michonne to the girl across from him. Her head was bowed and he could see her lips move silently, almost as if she were psyching herself up somehow. Finally, she lifted her head and her gaze met his directly, an almost defiant gleam in those blue eyes.

 _Good for you, kid. Don't ever let the stranger see your fear._

"I come from a place about forty miles north of here in Maryland. I lived there with my mom. She's the leader." Lydia looked down at her hands as her mouth twisted in a grimace. Shrugging her shoulders with more inner dialogue, she looked up again and met his gaze as she continued with a fortifying breath, "She calls herself Alpha. It's not her real name, the one she was born with. But it's the name she gave herself and what we all call her now, even me."

Rick leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs, his expression neutral as he gently prodded the girl before him, "Why are you here Lydia? Why did you leave your mom?"

Lydia shook her head vehemently, her expressive face displaying defiance once again. Michonne rubbed the space between her shoulders in a soothing motion. "No, not my mom. I left my _leader_. She's not my mom anymore. She wanted me to do terrible things and she wanted men to do terrible things to me so I stopped it. Stopped them and I came here. And now you have to stop Alpha," Lydia's eyes welled up as the fear took over the anger and she leaned toward Rick, forgetting her shyness with him. "Please mister. You have to stop her. Before it's too late. _Please_. As her voice ended on a choked sob, Michonne stood up and gathered Lydia in her arms with a gentle hug.

"It's okay, Lydia. We'll make it right. You did great tonight, thank you. Jesus is waiting right outside the door and he'll take you back to your room, okay?" At the girl's quick nod, Michonne turned her towards the door and Rick watched as the girl made a hasty exit, swiping a hand to brush away her tears. With the door clicking shut behind her, Michonne sighed and turned back towards Rick.

"Sorry about that. She had been so strong the last day or so, I thought she could do this but it looks like she still has some healing to do so let me fill in the blanks." Sitting in the chair Lydia had just vacated, Michonne mirrored Rick's position and leaned forward in the seat so only a foot or two separated them.

"Lydia comes from a community that is no more than a survivalist camp. They live in a clearing in a rural part of Maryland with only tarps and sticks under trees as their shelter. They scavenge, live off of the land and use animal skins for warmth in the winter. Her mother, Alpha, believes that the end of the world as we knew it simply means humans need to go back to their base selves. Their primal selves. She believes in survival of the fittest and has killed several community members in order to rise to the top of her 'pack' as she calls her group. Lydia told me that her mother considers herself to be the alpha female and that Lydia should follow in her footsteps."

Rick squinted his eyes in disbelief even though he knew he shouldn't be surprised. A world lacking structure, laws, and apparently prescription medication, allowed insanity to thrive and it looked like that poor girl got caught up in it.

"Okay, so her mother is some kind of crazy survivalist. How does that impact your community or mine?"

"Lydia was with a group of four men when my runners came across them about fifteen miles north of here. Alpha had sent her out as part of a coming of age mission. She was to get her first human kills and then right after, the men were to take turns with her. Make a woman out of her."

"Jesus Christ."

Michonne nodded her agreement, disgust written across her face. "Exactly. These men were armed with guns and knives as was Lydia. She had a semi automatic pistol in order to make it a bit easier for her to make her kills. There were five of them against three of my men. It could easily have been a slaughter."

Rick felt a sour churning in his stomach. _Christ, she was just a kid. What kind of twisted bitch did this to their own kid? Force them to murder and then get gang raped as some kind of sick ritual?_

Michonne leaned back in the chair, tired all of a sudden as the horror this girl had experienced drained her of whatever remaining energy she had left.

"Instead of killing my people as she had been instructed, Lydia turned her pistol on the men who had accompanied her, shooting them all in the head before they could draw their rifles on her. She then turned herself over to my people and begged them for mercy. She was brought back here immediately and I learned her story shortly after."

Michonne knew this next part was key and held Rick's gaze, feeling reassured by the intelligence she saw in his blue eyes. The intelligence that went along with the strength and courage she knew he had.

"Rick, her community has almost three hundred people, most of them adults and all of them trained with guns, spears and knives. Most of them follow Alpha with complete devotion and believe that her way is the right path. She told Lydia right before she left that she was sending out three other groups similar to Lydia's in order to hunt humans and find out where other communities were. Her plan is to have her group act as the pack they are and kill all the humans they encounter on their hunt. Every man, woman and child, until the world belongs to the strongest. Them. Their _pack_.

Rick shook his head, not able to understand this level of insanity. "You believe these people, this _cult_ , is coming our way. That they want to kill us."

Michonne nodded while she stood up and headed to the large desk, removing a sealed plastic bag from the drawer. "Lydia told me that Alpha has a map of the DC area and that she loves the idea of taking over the nation's capitol. So she sent out scouts who will hunt and then report back. Once large communities are discovered, Alpha plans to attack and wipe them all out.

Rick stood up and walked over to where Michonne stood near the desk, "A few hundred people with limited training? We can take them on, I'm sure of it."

Michonne lifted the clear plastic bag to allow Rick a closer look.

 _What the hell?_ He recognized the rotted flesh of a walker but what the hell was it doing in a bag? And looking eerily like some kind of mask? Raising his gaze, he was struck by the level of concern in Michonne's. Up until now, he hadn't really seen her rattled. This had her spooked.

"Alpha's group call themselves The Whisperers. They wear the skins of the dead to mask their smell and then they _herd_ them. Control them. And they have a couple thousand of them holed up in a baseball stadium about a mile or so from where they live." Michonne tossed the bag onto her desk, revulsion mixing with the fear in her eyes. "Lydia believes Alpha plans on bringing her herd down here as her weapon of choice."

 _Shit_. It all made sense now. Why Michonne sought out his help and Negan's. There was an army of crazy _and_ the dead just over the border and they were getting ready to march.

Hundreds of humans and thousands of walkers. Those were serious numbers. Suddenly his battle with the Saviors and with Negan didn't seem quite as urgent. They had a bigger enemy. One that would force them to all band together if they were to have any chance of defeating.

"How much time do we have?"

Michonne released the breath she had been holding. _He was in_. She could tell by the resolute expression on his face. _Thank God_.

"No more than a few weeks. Lydia said that Alpha gave her group a month to hunt and scout and then return home with their intel. Alpha will then determine her targets based on the information she gets. We'll have to be on the lookout for the three other scouting parties but other than that, should have some time to prepare."

Rick nodded, eager to move forward now that he knew what was at stake. "I want to bring you back to Alexandria tomorrow morning. I need you to meet with my people so they can decide for themselves. It's not just my decision. They all have a right to vote on this."

Michonne smiled, appreciating her common ground with this man. This fellow leader and fighter.

"Of course, that's only fair. I did the same thing here shortly after Lydia arrived. Your people have the right to know what is going on. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

"Do you have a car?"

Michonne smiled and nodded, "We're not completely old school here. We have cars located a couple miles down the road and can use one of them to get back. We should turn in. Jesus can show you to your room for the night while I make the preparations for the trip."

Rick knew he should feel annoyed at Michonne telling him what to do but, if he admitted it to himself, he wasn't annoyed at all.

He couldn't remember a time since the world went to hell that someone gave him direction and took the lead. Someone who was positioned as his equal and who had intelligence and sound judgment.

He liked it.

Shaking his head in bemusement, Rick bid Michonne good night and left the library to find Jesus waiting for him in the vestibule. His gaze steady, Jesus approached Rick with a small smile.

"Now you know why I stowed away in your truck."

Rick nodded, "Now I know. You had to check us out to see if we were the good guys."

"And if you had what we needed. Soldiers. Weapons."

Following Jesus up the stairs to the long hallway of bedrooms, Rick turned to him when they reached the top. "Lucky for you we did."

Jesus chuckled and shook his head, looking up a Rick with a glint of amusement in his light eyes, "Lucky for you too Rick. Because if you didn't, I would have left that night and looked elsewhere for help and you wouldn't have had any idea your community was in danger."

Rick found his mouth curving into a smile, enjoying the conversation despite the macabre topic. "I don't believe that. I think your leader has a big heart even though she won't admit it and I think you would have warned us against your better judgment because you know you'd catch hell if she found out after the fact."

As they approached Rick's room for the night, Jesus stopped, a contemplative look on his face. "After knowing her for a day, you think you can read Michonne that well? To know how she leads?"

"I make it a habit to read people. It's how I've lived this long. Thanks for the escort, I can take it from here."

Jesus nodded and started back down the hallway before turning back to Rick. "For the record? You read her right. _And_ me. She's the best person I've ever known and I would follow her into the bowels of hell if need be. And there were times it felt pretty close to that. Good night Rick." With those words, Jesus continued down the hall without a backwards glance, leaving Rick to his thoughts.

Too many of which were about the very leader the man had just touted.

By eight the next morning, Rick and Michonne were traveling south in a beat up Chevy, their backpacks stowed in the back seat along with Michonne's katana, which Rick had returned to her upon their arrival last night.

Settling into the passenger seat of the car, Michonne turned to Rick with a question she had been meaning to ask since meeting him. "Your accent. It's not DC area, that's for sure. Where did you grow up? Georgia? South Carolina?"

Rick let a small smile curve his mouth as he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, always on the lookout for walkers and traps. "Born and raised in King County Georgia. Just outside of Atlanta."

Michonne grinned, "I knew it! I knew you were deep south. When did you move to Alexandria?"

Rick glanced over at Michonne as he realized that she assumed he had lived in the area before the world went wrong. He liked knowing that he was going to surprise her for a change. She was always a step ahead of him and he wanted to equal their footing. "About two months ago."

Michonne whipped her head around, moving her gaze from the road to her traveling companion just in time to watch him hide the grin he let loose with his response.

"You traveled _hundreds_ of miles in all of this? How? How many of you made the trip?"

Sitting straighter in the driver's seat, Rick slid his gaze to take in her stunned expression. Stunned _and_ impressed. She didn't even try to hide it. "We made the trip from Georgia to Richmond Virginia when we lost our home at a prison we had inhabited for about nine months or so. A member of our group was from there and we wanted to get him home to his family. When that didn't pan out, we decided to give Washington a shot since we had come so far and it was only another fifty miles." Rick turned to find Michonne nodding her head and looking out the window, the wheels turning in her head. Most likely calculating and imagining the challenges of their journey.

"There were fifteen of us that made the trip."

With that, Michonne turned her head to face Rick fully, not even bothering to hide the respect in her gaze, her beautiful lips curving into a bright smile.

"That's amazing, Rick. _Truly_. All of those people on the road like that? Making a trip like that these days is incredibly dangerous. I don't know how you did it but it's very impressive."

Rick shrugged, "We did it together. That's how my group has always survived. By sticking together and having each other's backs."

Just as he uttered that last word, their car sputtered and let out a groan as it stalled out on the road. With a curse, Rick hit the brakes and put the car in park then popped the hood.

Taking a quick look, Rick turned to Michonne as she approached him from her side of the car, "Blown head gasket. This car is done." Placing his hands on his hips, Rick looked up at the clear sky as he did some calculations in his head, "We've got about five more miles until we're in radio range and then I can contact Abraham to come pick us up. You good to walk?"

Michonne nodded, "Let's go."

Reaching into the car, Michonne grabbed her backpack and sword while Rick retrieved his backpack and then they both set off at a fast pace, eager to eat up the miles between them and their ride.

After about a mile of companionable silence, there were moans coming from the woods to their right as eight walkers ambled toward them. Rick placed his hand on the handle of the machete sheathed at his hip as he turned to Michonne. "Run or fight?"

Michonne surprised him with a smile as she dropped her backpack to the ground and unsheathed her sword. Rick felt the ember of attraction burn brighter as he watched this woman turn to the approaching walkers with no fear, just anticipation.

 _She had done this many times before_. He could see it in her stance and in the comfort with which she held her weapon.

Pulling his machete out, Rick mirrored her smile with his own as he jogged up to the nearest walker, "Fight it is then."

As he slashed and hacked his way through his group of walkers, he could see Michonne decapitate two walkers in one strike with her sword and then pivot gracefully on her right foot to take out another walker approaching her from the back. It was like a dance with her and Rick had the pleasure of watching her take out the last walker blind with an arching swing over her head.

He had never known a woman like this one and was certain that if he had the good fortune to see old age, he would never meet another like her.

With the dead on the ground all around them, Michonne felt the adrenaline rush through her and took a moment to appreciate the physical exertion after days of being cooped up performing leadership duties. She had spent a year killing these things and doing her part to make sure they didn't harm the innocent, the ones who couldn't defend themselves. It had been awhile since she had had the opportunity to take down so many at once.

Looking over at Rick, taking in his sweat dampened curls and blood splattered shirt, Michonne felt a visceral connection unlike any she'd felt before. But as they breathed in tandem and shared triumphant smiles, a warmth spread through her entire body as that connection veered into dangerous territory. A place she didn't even want to contemplate. _Couldn't_ contemplate.

This was a business arrangement. It was important she and Rick get along and work together to fight a common enemy but _that was it_. Thoughts or feelings outside of that arrangement needed to be squelched as they were a dangerous distraction.

But she would allow herself this brief moment of shared victory. Her smile growing even wider, she shook her sword dry with one shake and then tilted her head coyly as she watched Rick do the same.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Rick Grimes."

Rick let out a rusty laugh as he sheathed his weapon and started walking again.

"You and I need to have a long talk about your idea of fun."

The rest of their walk passed with shared stories of past walker kills as the two leaders bonded further over the death and violence the world had forced upon them.

An hour later, they were sitting in the back seat of a large sedan with Abraham driving and Glenn riding shotgun. Rick filled them both in on the threat of Alpha's community but kept the news of the alliance with Negan to himself for the time being. He hadn't accepted it yet and wasn't prepared to share with it his people until he could come to peace with it himself.

Abe and Glenn took in the news of the threat with grave expressions as they considered what it meant for their community and the safety of their loved ones. There would need to be defenses built, additional training and weapons. They were going to war and would need to be at their strongest.

After a few minutes of silence, Abraham gave Rick and Michonne a long look through the rearview mirror, acknowledging their blood splattered clothes.

"Looks like you ran into some trouble on your walk."

Rick shrugged, "Eight or so came out of the woods. We handled them."

Abraham chuckled, "I bet you did. Eight? Shit you handled twice that many in the empty store the other day. With that machete of yours you can hack and slash through a herd like nobody's busi..."

"Abraham."

"Yeah Boss?"

"What're you doing?"

"Just making sure our new co-chief knows how capable you are in times of trouble, that's all. So when a shit storm hits, you've got it covered from both ends."

It took everything Michonne had not to show her amusement at the large Texan's desire to pump up his leader in her eyes. It was kind of adorable, actually.

Keeping her expression neutral, Michonne met Abraham's gaze in the rearview mirror. "I know but thank you for the confirmation. Always appreciated."

Abraham gave her a short nod and returned his eyes to the road, his mission accomplished.

Michonne turned her gaze to Rick and couldn't stop her smile at the embarrassed flush tinting his cheeks while he looked out of the window.

The next ten minutes of the trip was filled with Michonne's conversation with Glenn about his wife's visit with Dr. Bauer, Hilltop's only doctor, who just so happened to be an OB/GYN by training. She was happy to hear that Maggie was healthy and doing well as was her baby. There had been no babies born since Michonne's arrival at Hilltop and, frankly, her community had no children under the age of ten so it was nice to think of a new life being created.

It gave her some hope that they might actually beat this world in the long run.

The car slowed down and then came to a complete stop and Michonne got her first look at Alexandria as she exited the back seat along with Rick. She examined the fifteen foot high steel walls, admiring the protection they served, not only from the dead but from the evil who would seek to invade and destroy what was contained behind them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rick stand beside her, his eyes scanning the watch points placed on either side of the front gate, looking for vulnerability. Finally, he turned his gaze onto her and quirked his mouth into a slight smile.

"You ready for this?"

Michonne held his gaze and quickly concluded that his question was bravado and he was projecting his own nervousness onto her.

Well she was having none of that. They were in this together, for better or worse and they'd enter these gates on equal footing.

Raising an eyebrow, she gave him a smile filled with challenge.

"Are _you_?"

Rick couldn't stop the surprised laugh that her question pulled out of him. She didn't give an inch did she? And she also read him too damn well. He'd have to work on his poker face if he wanted to keep up with her.

The metal gate opened with a loud clank and Rick gestured her ahead of him.

"Welcome to Alexandria, Michonne. Come meet my people."

 **A/N: Thank you for the love! I'm determined to get updates out in a timely manner but there is so much story to tell, it's taking me a little longer than anticipated. This is definitely a slow build and I'm taking my time with it. I hope you see it as a nice hiatus distraction like I have been!**


	5. First Impressions

_Strong leaders, the_ _ **best**_ _leaders understood how the human mind worked. Understood the need for connection, for common purpose. One didn't enter battle on a whim. Put one's life at risk without consideration and forethought. In those dark days, few leaders rose to that challenge but the ones who did?_

 _They were the Conquerors._

 **2 AV Alexandria**

 _Abraham told him she carried a sword_. Carl leaned on the porch railing of his home, watching for the gate to open as he replayed parts of the conversation from the night before. He'd never seen Abraham so excited and that said a lot because Abraham wasn't exactly the quiet type.

"She's a goddamned _Samurai_ , Carl! Do you hear me? Their leader wears a sword on her back like she's a general in a freaking Japanese army." Well, he hadn't used the word freaking but Carl's mom had drummed it in his head from the time he could talk what words gentlemen could and couldn't use.

Old habits and all that...

 _There!_ The squeak of the metal gate drew Carl's gaze towards the north facing one and he stood up from the railing, anxious to meet this leader that Abe couldn't stop talking about. Who was she and what did she want with them? Could they help each other or would she end up being just another person who simply wanted to take?

Spotting the old Ford that Abe and Glenn had left in to pick his dad up, Carl took a deep breath and made his way toward the gate.

 _Let's find out._

Following the car through the gate on foot, Rick walking beside her, Michonne got her first look at Alexandria. Jesus had described it to her in detail but it wasn't the same as seeing the community up close and personal.

 _McMansions_. That's what Mike used to call them. Swank, large houses with all of the latest in suburban amenities. Three thousand plus square feet, porches, landscaping and what she would imagine would be gleaming granite and stainless steel inside.

Beautiful to look at but how functional would these houses be nowadays? Pretty only got you so far once the power grid was part of history and accountants and teachers had to figure out how to make water run again and the lights turn on.

"I don't know how much Jesus told you but I can give you a tour after the meeting and the vote." Rick's words interrupted her musings, as his raspy drawl always did. What was it about his accent that made her want him to just keep talking?

 _Focus, Michonne._

"That's fine. I know we have to take care of business first, like we discussed. Get the community to agree to an alliance and then you can show me Alexandria. I know how this works."

Rick curled his lips inward to prevent a smile from sneaking out. Michonne was in full leader mode as she strode into his town, eyes straight ahead, arms swinging with her long stride and her sword at home on her back. He was very interested to see what his people would make of her.

And, if he were honest with himself, he was anxious to see what she thought of all of them. Yes, she needed their numbers but many of his people were only recently trained as soldiers, having lived most of the past two years in relative safety behind steel walls. It wasn't until he and his small group arrived a few months ago that things changed. That circumstances forced them to learn to fight the living and the dead.

And to learn to kill.

Watching as his teenage son approached them, Rick was reminded of those circumstances as he took in the heavy bandage covering the empty socket where Carl's eye used to be.

 _Sociopathic invaders breeching their walls. A herd entering their town. Chaos and panic._

And a rogue bullet fired into that chaos that forged it's destructive path through his son, almost killing him.

Quickening his pace to meet Carl halfway, Rick reminded himself why he made the decisions he made.

To protect his family. Nothing in this world or the next was more important.

As Carl reached them, Rick stopped and grasped his shoulder in greeting, "Hey there, I'm glad you came out. I want you to meet someone." Turning towards Michonne, Rick kept his hand on Carl's shoulder as he gestured towards her with his other arm. "Carl, this is Michonne, the leader of the community we visited yesterday. Michonne, this is my son Carl."

Michonne had identified the young man as Rick's the moment she spotted him making his way toward them. He walked like Rick, had the same dark hair, same strong blade of a nose and, as he drew closer, his remaining eye was the same shade of blue that gleamed with intelligence. Intelligence and wariness.

 _Like Father, like son._

Michonne smiled at Carl, hoping to put him at ease but knowing that it would take a lot more than polite charm to win over Rick Grimes' son. She'd have to earn his trust because instinct told her that he was just as guarded, just as vigilant as the man who raised him. He'd have to be to make it this far.

"Nice to meet you Carl. I'm looking forward to visiting your community."

Carl looked the woman in the eye, needing to make it clear that he wasn't a kid that she could disregard. Silence reigned as he took in her fingerless gloves, boots and leather vest.

And the katana slung over her shoulder.

He knew what the sword was called because he had read a book in fifth grade about a Japanese warrior who had used one. It wasn't just a weapon you picked up and figured out. Carl knew it took a lot of training to learn how to use it proficiently and was curious as to how she came into those skills.

Just as the silence grew uncomfortable and right before his Dad would most likely scold him for being rude, Carl nodded his head and murmured a return greeting.

Rick squeezed Carl's shoulder, drawing his son's eyes from Michonne back to him.

"Listen, we're about to have a town meeting at the church."

"Yeah I know. Father Gabriel stopped by and told me to head over. I was about to right before you got back."

Rick nodded, "Right. We're asking all of the adults who are able to, to attend and it's important that you're there. I need you to hear about what's going on and what it means for all of us."

Carl's brows drew together as he glanced back at Michonne. "Does it have to do with Hilltop?"

Rick followed Carl's gaze to Michonne and met her eyes briefly. He saw certainty there. Certainty in their mission that gave him the confidence to respond in kind to his son.

Standing in front of Carl, Rick drew his attention away from Michonne back to him. He needed to make it clear that what was about to happen was something _he_ supported.

"It's way bigger than Hilltop. I don't have time to tell you all of the details but there is a very large community a day's drive from here that is looking to harm us. We're in danger, Carl, and we need to align ourselves with Hilltop and...others...to fight against them."

Carl's heart started to race as he saw the worry creep into his dad's eyes. There was only one other community around here that Carl knew about. A community with trained fighters. _Killers_.

"No." Carl started to walk away, uninterested in discussing this anymore. There was no way he was going to support working with murderers and thieves. He didn't care how big this threat was, they would figure out another way...

"Carl, stop!" At his dad's command, Carl stopped, pivoted on his foot and turned back make his feelings clear.

"He killed Daryl, Dad. _Daryl_! Remember him? Your best friend?" Carl ignored his father's pained expression and refused to even look at the woman who stood next to him, the woman who had just brought all of this to their doorstep. Who did she think she was anyway? To think that they would all just team up together on her say so?

Glaring at his dad, Carl continued, "I don't _care_ about this other community a _day's drive away_. I've never seen them and know nothing about them. However, I _do_ know everything about the Saviors and about Negan. I've met them and I watched them put an arrow through someone I cared about. Someone who saved you and saved me more times than I can count. I know that I hate them and want them all dead. I know that I cannot and _will_ not work with them or fight with them. And nothing you can say will change my mind." With that, he turned to walk away again, done with this craziness.

"Carl."

She spoke his name quietly, with no anger, no hint of scolding to it. But for some reason, it had the power to stop him once again and compel him to turn to face her. The woman he had just met and who had already turned his world upside down.

Michonne's heart broke for this young man. She knew he had seen and done things that no one his age should have had to. Too much violence and death. Too many losses. He was hurting and he was angry.

She would respect that. She had been in his shoes and would not condescend or patronize. He wasn't a child and most likely hadn't been one for a very long time.

Walking a few steps forward, Michonne stopped directly in front of Carl, proud of the way he took a quiet breath in order to settle his anger. He was learning to control his emotions, a challenging feat for a teenager in the normal world, let alone the one they found themselves in.

Keeping her tone level, Michonne met his gaze and hid nothing from him in hers. He needed to see what brought her here.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. You're right about the Saviors and about Negan," A flicker of surprise passed through his blue eye before he buried it behind a scowl.

"They _are_ killers, I won't deny that and, yes, they're very dangerous. I also know they're opportunists and survivors. And they're led by a man who wants nothing more than to win and live life by his own rules. And it's _because_ of all of that that we need them. They're going to help us defeat an enemy that has the numbers and the methods to wipe us all out." She had his full attention now. Here was someone who appreciated sincerity and the hard facts. Michonne would remember that for the future.

"Carl, I'm going to ask you for a favor. I'm going to ask you to give me an hour of your time in your church. Just an hour. Listen to everything I have to say. Learn everything about the threat and about the alliances I'm trying to make. Listen and then I want you to think about it and vote with the rest of your people. You have a say in this, just like everyone else. It's important to your Dad and it's important to me that this decision is a community one and not just ours. Can you do that?"

Rick tried to maintain a neutral expression but it was difficult as he watched his son being spoken to so effectively by a woman who had met him only minutes earlier. How did she do it? How did she know exactly what to say and how to say it? He was _still_ trying to figure out how to talk to his son and he'd known him his whole life.

Michonne held her breath for several long moments and then slowly let it out in a quiet sigh of relief when Carl gave her a terse nod. He was a tough kid and for some reason his approval meant more to her than was reasonable. She'd have to work hard to shield her heart as there was potential for him to sneak under the guards she put around herself.

With a brief smile and a returning nod, Michonne shifted her gaze to Rick, who had stood still and silent beside her son during their exchange, "Lead the way, Mr. Grimes. Let's do this."

 **The Sanctuary (earlier that morning)**

Sitting at breakfast with his most senior group of men, Negan bit off a piece of stale beef jerky and used his utility knife to peel a pear. One of a dozen Michonne had gifted him as a sign of good will.

 _There's more where that came from. If you behave._

Negan chuckled to himself. God, that woman had balls to spare. And he meant that in a good way. No fear, not a shiver of nervousness, just total focus on her mission. He was happy to play along and be a good soldier for the time being. See where it all led...

"So when's the rest of the food from those farmers coming?" Negan looked up from his pear and gave a long stare to Hugh, one of his top soldiers, a bona fide asshole, and the one who interrupted his thoughts with a stupid question.

God it was fucking exhausting leading these dicks.

"When's the _food_ coming Hugh? What's wrong, your 42's getting a bit loose?" Said with a grin and pointed look at Hugh's large belly straining his dingy t-shirt. Standing up, Negan made his leisurely way down the table, eating his fruit, and twirling his knife through dexterous fingers like a carnival act.

"Tell ya what..." he murmured silkily as he stood behind Hugh, who was now clearly uncomfortable. Which was expected, of course and necessary when one led over 90 thugs, murderers and all around bastards.

 _Thunk!_

Hugh sat back in his chair as Negan's knife pierced the greasy sausage on the plate in front of him and raised it to his eyes for inspection as he continued to walk to the other side of his chair.

" _You_ worry about making sure our guns are inventoried and we have bullets for said guns and, while you're at it, make sure our men are up off their asses and actually ready to go to FUCKING WAR and let _me_ worry ABOUT THE FUCKING FOOD!" The last screamed right into Hugh's ear which, of course, brought about an immediate nod of agreement.

Negan stood up, looked around at the silent table filled with his toughest men, pleased that he had their attention. Looking again at the sausage held on the end of his knife, he grinned and then flicked it to the mangy dog sitting a few feet away.

Hugh's beady eyes watched the only meat in his breakfast disappear into the mutt's mouth but said nothing. Again, predictable and necessary behavior.

"Alrighty, now that we've settled _that_ , you all have your assignments. We need to make certain all of the outposts are provisioned and armed and I want every single vehicle in our possession tuned up, gassed up and ready to go. We have no idea when we're going to need to scramble so we need to get our asses in gear."

Just then, a loud, rapid knock sounded on the door and before Negan could respond, it opened and one of his runners, Jerome, rushed in, two other runners right behind him. Seeing the look in their eyes, Negan bit back his scolding for their interruption and got down to business.

"What happened?"

Jerome knew to get right to the point as Negan was the only one allowed to embellish. "We were coming back from Outpost 8, not three miles from here and came across a roadblock. Pine trees dragged into the road. We got out to move them and then five creepers came out of the woods, moaning up a storm."

Negan waved his hand, impatient for the real story, "And? You're not getting paid by the word Jerome. Spit it out."

"We pulled out our knives, thinking to just put them down like we always do but then as they got closer, I remembered what you said about those Whisperer freaks and I told the men to fall back. Good thing I did 'cuz one of the freaks pulled out a fucking Bowie knife and went all Helter Skelter running towards us."

Negan's bored heart began beating fast, adrenaline kicking in at this news. He waved again to urge Jerome to finish his story.

"Robbie Lugered his crazy ass and I blew away two more that were coming from the right. Got 'em right between the eyes of their fucked up dead skin masks. Like something out of a fucking nightmare. Wade took down the one coming out of the woods to our left. "

Negan stared at his top runner, willing him to have not failed in his duty.

"And the last one? What happened to him?"

Jerome stood taller and looked Negan in the eye, man to man, something his men rarely earned the right to do.

"I shot the ax out of his hand and took some of his real flesh with it. He's tied up in the interrogation room waiting for you."

 _This._ Now this was something unpredictable for once. _Halle-fucking-lujah_.

Clapping his hand down on Jerome's shoulder, he gave him a shake and a nod of thanks. "Excellent work, man. Seriously. I'm impressed. You get first pick tonight,"referring to the women who earned room and board on their backs and knees, " _and_ you get Hugh's dinner portion for the rest of the week." The last was said with a parting grin at the sullen soldier sitting at the end of the table along with two shoulder pats for the other runners as he exited the dining hall and headed straight for the interrogation room.

 _Showtime._

 **Alexandria**

As Michonne followed Rick and Carl into the church, she saw that it was filled with what had to be every able bodied adult in the community. Rick had gathered his troops. It was up to her to get them to agree to go to war.

As the three of them made it to the front of the church, the chatter quieted down and eyes followed them down the aisle. By the time Carl took his place in the front pew next to Glenn, Abraham and Maggie and Rick climbed the steps to the altar, it was quiet as a tomb in the large building.

Michonne followed Rick up the steps and turned to face the crowd, willing her face into a composed mask, not allowing them to see any nerves. They needed all the confidence they could get and she wanted to help them along their way.

Rick spoke first, as planned. "Thank you for coming out today. I know I've pulled you all from your work but it's really important." Stepping to the edge of the altar, Rick made certain his voice carried to the back of the pews. He needed every word to be heard.

"Yesterday, I traveled to a place about 25 miles north of here called Hilltop. It's a farming community with acres of crops and livestock and is sustainable and thriving. They have soldiers, trained archers, and they are organized. They want to align with us, partner with us. And I think it's a very good idea. We'll never go hungry again as they have plenty of food to spare. It will be a partnership that can truly help to make us our strongest yet." Rick paused and looked over at Michonne, his heart beating faster at her small smile.

He wasn't alone in this. _And neither was she_. That's how they would go on.

A united front.

"Hilltop seeks out an alliance for a reason and I'm standing here today to tell you that I believe in it and my hope is that when we are done here, you will too. But it's not my story to tell. Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to the leader of Hilltop, Michonne Sauveterre," a quick glance to confirm the correct pronunciation of the French surname and then continuing at her second smile and nod, "She will explain why her community sought ours...and others...out." Rick turned to Michonne with a nod, ceding the floor to her as he left the altar to join Carl and the others in the front row.

Looking out at the crowd, Michonne saw trepidation, fear and some anticipation. All valid emotions. It was what made them human after all. And Michonne was so very grateful that humanity had survived this far into a world gone wrong.

Choosing to lessen the distance between herself and Rick's people, Michonne stepped down from the altar and walked to the top of the center aisle, putting her inches away from where Rick and Carl sat. For some reason, standing close to them gave her that extra push to continue.

"Hello everyone. I'm happy to be here as I've heard so much about Alexandria." Pausing, Michonne took a moment to share a friendly smile with the room, easing her way into the business of the day. They had to see her as a person, not just someone taking their security away.

"While I am the leader my people chose about a year ago, it wasn't a position I sought out. I was just a woman who wanted to help keep her community safe and keep the dead and bad people from our door." Michonne started to pace slowly back and forth, like she did when speaking to an auditorium of sleepy eyed college freshmen. Old habits really didn't die, did they?

"But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you prepare, there comes a day when you have to fight and you have to kill. That's what happened to my community and I know it's what happened here not too long ago. It's the world we live in after all. There is no more military, no more police. Now it all falls on regular people. Construction workers, fire fighters, daycare providers, project managers," Placing a hand on her chest, Michonne gave a self deprecating smile, "even bookish college professors."

Rick watched as Michonne slowly captivated her audience with a natural delivery that spoke to her success as a teacher. She related to his people and made connections between her community and theirs with ease. He found himself leaning forward and noticed his son doing the same.

"I've sought out alliances because there is an imminent threat at our doorstep. A camp of hunters who call themselves the Whisperers. They're led by a delusional leader by the name of Alpha who intends to hunt whatever humans they can find in this area and destroy them. And they have the means to do it."

Carl listened intently as Michonne continued to describe what sounded like a cult led by a crazy person. There were hundreds of them, they were armed and they wore the dead's skin to hide amongst them. He remembered what happened when only a _handful_ of crazy people came to their town. Their walls were compromised and many of their people were hacked to death before they were able to stop them. He still had dreams about the 'W's' carved in their foreheads.

Michonne knew she had their attention as she paused to let her words sink in. To drive it home, though, she had to speak of Lydia. Had to bring in the true horror of what they were dealing with. Glancing over at Carl, she saw a boy aged beyond his years and knew that he would handle it.

Once again looking out at the quiet but very attentive crowd, Michonne walked deeper into the aisle, making herself a part of their group the best way she knew how.

 _We're in this together. Please understand that._

"So how did we become aware of this threat? A fifteen year old girl, alone and terrified, made the decision to take down four of her own people, men she was instructed to hunt humans with, men who were going to _initiate_ her into adulthood when the killing was done," Gasps sounded throughout the church and Michonne paused to let that horror sink in then continued, "This young girl stopped these men from killing my people by shooting them dead in the road before they could cause harm. Think about what would compel a girl to kill, to put a bullet into those she had lived with. Survived with."

Utter silence as those words resonated throughout the church.

"The will to _survive_. That's what this girl, Lydia, has. An iron will to survive and _that_ gave her the courage to take down a pack of animals who would have committed murder and who would have abused her _under the command of Alpha_ , their leader, and..." another pause, "her _mother_."

Carl's head shot up from facing the floor to turn Michonne's way, barely hearing the murmurs throughout the church as the rage coursing through him muffled the white noise. As he stared at Michonne, she turned from her position in the middle of the church and met his gaze. For a brief moment, she let him see the anger that most likely always resided under her composed facade. The anger for the weak and the helpless who were preyed upon in this world. In that moment, he felt a connection and it soothed the turmoil inside of him. Michonne gave him a brief nod then continued her story. As he listened, Carl remembered his mother, willing to do whatever it took to keep him safe when the world ended. Who never let a day go by without telling him he was loved. He knew there was true evil in the world and had been victim to it while on the road but didn't realize how deep it could infect a person. He would never take his family for granted again.

As Michonne finished her story, she made her way back to the front of the church, needing to finish this where it began, near Rick and those closest to him.

"I know what I've just told you is disturbing and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that we have to share this world with ugliness and cruelty when we already have enough to fight against. But the fact remains that my community and yours now face a threat bigger than we ever have before and we need to band together, pool our resources, our firepower and our best minds in order to defeat it." Clasping her hands loosely in front of her, Michonne stood at the front of the church and glanced over at Rick, needing his reassurance before continuing. At his short nod, Michonne looked out at the crowd and threw out the last bombshell.

"But our two communities aren't enough. Between us we maybe have eighty fighters, a handful of working cars and not nearly enough ammunition to tackle the Whisperers. We need help so I've forged an alliance with a community who have another eighty fighters, a fleet of cars and enough guns and ammunition to arm every able bodied soldier we have and then some. And they're led by a man who is ruthless and who is motivated to defeat this enemy. He has agreed to work with both of our communities and share his resources with us until the Whisperers are no longer a threat."

Another glance at Rick and another short nod pushed her forward.

"You are all familiar with this community and their leader as you've been battling them the past few weeks," Michonne now had to raise her voice over the outcry of dissent that reverberated throughout the building.

"The Saviors would be our third ally."

As the building erupted with angry shouts, Rick stood up and walked over to position himself next to Michonne, needing to convey his support of the plan.

"Everyone settle down, please!" Rick gave the crowd a minute to quiet and then continued, "No one wants Negan dead more than me. You all know that. His people are dangerous and they've murdered one of our own. My best friend." Rick swallowed his grief in order to continue, "But right now we need him and his men. He and Michonne know each other from awhile back and he is willing to follow her lead with this mission. He has agreed to a truce between our communities while we fight The Whisperers who, right now, are a much bigger threat. Once we defeat them, we will figure out how to deal with the Saviors, I _promise_."

Rick was done talking and wanted to move on with the vote so he drove the points home in a way his people would understand.

"Over three hundred armed fighters who are being told to hunt down every last human being in the D.C. area and they control _thousands_ of walkers. How will we be able to go on runs knowing these people are out there possibly headed our way? What if they bring a herd to our door that's _even bigger_ than the last one we dealt with? We have to end _them_ before they end _us_ and The Saviors are our best shot right now. We don't have time to drive around the countryside looking for friendly communities who are also fighters. The Whisperers have scouting parties in the area who may have already found our community and are reporting back to Alpha as we speak."

Rick looked over at Michonne, standing just a foot away, and felt a jolt travel through him at her grateful smile. They really were in this together.

 _To the end._

Turning back to his people Rick continued, "I've seen what Michonne has accomplished with her community. I have faith in her plan and this alliance and I'm urging you to consider it as the _best option_ we have. We will be fed and we will train with her soldiers and they will train with us. And in the meantime? Our roads are once again safe because of the truce she has brokered."

The angry mutterings had stopped and Michonne saw some nodding heads as the people spoke amongst themselves, considering all that had been said. She and Rick stood silently together, a small town sheriff's deputy and a history professor, trying to forge their communities together with one enemy in order to fight an even bigger one.

Would they be successful?

"Time for a vote. All in favor of the alliance with Hilltop and The Saviors, please raise your hand." Rick buried any feelings of trepidation as he waited for the votes to come through. No matter what happened, he and Michonne would figure it out. _They had to_.

The air was heavy with silence for several long moments as not one hand raised into the air, fear and nervousness still circling through the room. Finally...

"Let's burn those circus freaks to the ground. I'm in!" This from Abraham in the front as his beefy arm shot straight into the air, quickly followed by Glenn and Maggie, then Aaron, Sasha, Eugene and Rosita.

Michonne turned to meet Carl's gaze, knowing how conflicted he was about aligning with Negan but having faith that his intelligence and need for justice would win out. A moment later, they shared a small smile as his hand raised in the air.

 _Everything was going to be okay._

Michonne stood taller as a wave of raised hands spread throughout the church until the vote was unanimous.

The alliance was struck. Alexandria, Hilltop and The Saviors were going to war.

 **A/N- So I wrote a 10k word chapter like a crazy woman and realized it was way too long so that's why you're getting two for the price of one today. Reviews are appreciated!**


	6. New Friends

_What makes us human? What gives us our humanity? Not our intelligence nor our courage, instinct or ability to reason. No, all of those are learned behaviors._

 _What makes us human is what we are born with. And what gives us our humanity is how we use it, either for good or for bad._

 _Our heart._

 **2 AV - The Sanctuary**

"Listen Psycho boy, I'm betting that once upon a time you had a functioning brain in that head of yours before you started living with Alpha-Bet soup over in your little cult de sac. So try to jump start that brain and understand the situation you're in..."

Negan stopped circling the man tied to the wooden chair in the dim room and stared down at the beaten face, one eye swollen shut and lips and nose bleeding profusely. The idiot could take a beating, that's for sure. He'd maintained his silence for an hour while taking punches, kicks and slashes with a knife.

Negan was done. He wanted nothing more than to bash the man's brains in with Lucille, his barbed wire bat, but knew the prisoner had crucial information and was determined to get it out of him.

Crouching in front of the man, Negan rested his chin on the handle of his bat and softened his tone to somewhere between conversational and menacing.

"You're _fucked_. You're beyond fucked actually. You had the bad luck to be taken by the biggest asshole in this area. I can do this all day long and the next day and the next. I know how to give a beating without killing you so no worries there. But you can end the pain if you just _answer my questions_."

Suddenly the man picked up his head which brought his face just inches from Negan's. He opened his swollen eyelid to reveal a gaze filled with something more than hate but less than pure crazy.

It was the glimmer of sanity and reason that spooked Negan.

"Why would I want to end the pain? For what purpose? I am _one_ person, a nobody. I am just a conduit for the greater good. You can do whatever you want _with_ me and _to_ me and it DOESN'T MATTER. My job here is done but yours is just beginning."

 _What the fuckity fuck?_

Negan was fluent in crazy but this dude was speaking a whole other language entirely and what set him on his heels was the complete lack of fear. The idiot looked proud to be in his position, like he was serving his duty or something.

Losing patience and needing to take control of the situation, Negan knocked against the side of his prisoner's head like a door, yelling into his ear, "Mr. Potato Head, Mr. Potato Head, anyone home? Hello?! We speak left to right here and you better start making fucking sense in the next five seconds or you're going to have to learn how live without your toenails and eyelids, got it? Now slowwwllyyy please..."

The man spit blood out of his mouth and then smiled at Negan, his bloodshot eyes filled with amusement and more sanity than Negan was comfortable with from a cult member.

"You're gonna die Neee-gan. You're gonna die, your men are gonna die, your women are gonna die. And if you have any children, well, they're gonna die too. Because Alpha's coming and she's gonna wipe you and your kind off the face of this earth."

 _His kind? The fuck...Did he mean humankind?_

Negan stood up and shoved his bat to rest against the man's throat, "I'm done, man! You win. I'm out of patience and fucks left to give for you. So rest up, enjoy the party with the voices inside your head while I make arrangements for transport."

Negan backed away towards the door, shaking his head as he gave up trying to figure out the puzzle that was the man in the chair. He'd leave it up to bigger brains than his to squeeze coherent intel from him.

"I hear Hilltop's beautiful this time of year. Might as well make it your final resting place since they have lots of shovels to dig your hole. Ta-ta asshole. Be back in a jiffy."

 **Alexandria**

Michonne was both exhausted and exhilarated as she walked towards Rick's house with Rick and Carl. After the vote, they had stayed at the church answering questions and removing doubts about the alliance. She had worked to present a calm, confident front and, based on the smiles and nods as conversations ended, she had succeeded for the most part. She enjoyed getting to know the people of Alexandria and was impressed with many of them.

When Rick had offered her a meal back at his house, Michonne quickly agreed. Not only was she starving but she would appreciate the quiet after the stress of the community meeting.

As they approached Rick's house, Michonne admired the wrap-around porch and flower boxes on the railings. This was a _home_ , something she didn't think she would see again. Rick turned to her as he opened the front door. "I'll give you a quick tour if you'd like and then we can eat."

Nodding her agreement, Michonne stepped through the door, Carl following right behind her and her breath caught.

 _McMansion indeed_. Granite countertops, hardwood floors with pricey throw rugs throughout and high end furniture made a big first impression on Michonne as Rick led her into the living room. While Rick gestured, Michonne was distracted by the stack of DVD's underneath the flat panel television set mounted on the wall.

Walking over to the pile, Michonne picked up an X-men box set, smiling at Wolverine's face scowling up at her.

"Do you like X-men?" Carl asked as he looked over her shoulder at the DVD case.

"I don't like them, I _love_ them. Well... _loved_. I just have to be content with the comics now."

Carl smiled as he gestured toward the DVD player in the cabinet. "We have a DVD player. You're welcome to watch the movies when you visit. It would be good to have someone to watch them with. Dad doesn't like Marvel comics..."

Michonne shook her head in disbelief, interrupting Carl. "Wait a minute, you have enough power to _watch movies_?" At Carl's nod, a bark of rusty laughter escaped as she shook her head. "Unbelievable. _Amazing_ actually." As she drew her fingers down the pile of DVD's, reading the titles in anticipation, a disturbing thought interrupted her joy. Turning to Rick who was standing just a few feet away, a small smile on his face, Michonne put her hands on her hips and let her disappointment be known, "And what does Carl mean, you don't like Marvel comics?"

Rick's eyes widened at Michonne's abrupt question but recovered quickly, "Just what he said, I'm not a fan. I grew up with DC comics, the _real deal_. Superman, Batman. You know, _true_ American heroes."

"True American heroes? Superman is an alien and Batman is a vigilante. Come _on_. You don't get more American than _Captain America_. I mean, The Avengers are the best group of heroes outside of X-men and don't get me started on..."

Rick threw up his hands in mock defeat, "Okay, okay! I concede. You'll be happy to know that there is not _one_ DC Comic DVD in the whole pile. This is a Marvel house as Carl controls the movie inventory."

Michonne grinned and patted Carl on the back, "Well done, Carl. I knew I liked you for a reason."

Carl grinned back, his face pinkening with the attention.

Michonne followed Rick into the kitchen and couldn't stop herself from turning on the faucet and then bouncing on her feet in a little happy dance as not only clean water came out, but _hot_ water.

She might never leave. Smiling up at Rick, she caught him staring at her with a captivated gaze and she realized that she probably looked like a fool getting all excited about these small amenities. She'd have to work on her game face or her credibility as a leader would be shot.

 _She's adorable._ Rick felt a flush start from his neck and spread to his face as he got caught staring at his visitor. He couldn't help it though. He was utterly charmed by her reactions to his house and felt like he was a kid showing his best friend all the cool stuff he got for Christmas.

He couldn't wait to show her the solar panels.

And his...er.. _the_.. armory.

As they all stood in the kitchen grinning like idiots at each other while Michonne turned the faucet on and off, a giggle from the stairway interrupted the silence.

Michonne turned the water off with a jolt at the sound and stood very still, afraid if she moved, it would go away.

 _No_! There it was again, even closer. Turning slowly around, Michonne watched as a woman in her sixties entered the kitchen, a baby perched on her hip.

A laughing, healthy, happy _baby_.

Michonne placed her hand over her heart as it raced and she took a step back to allow the counter to support her.

Rick greeted Mrs. Owens, Judy's babysitter but was distracted by Michonne's behavior. She looked ready to either cry or pass out and he saw that her breathing was coming out in rapid bursts.

Reacting on instinct, Rick took Judy from her caregiver and, with an apologetic look, ushered her out the door with a murmured thanks. Quickly returning to the kitchen, Rick saw that Carl had led Michonne to a chair and she was seated, hand still resting on her heart but looking a bit better.

Handing Judy to Carl, Rick poured a glass of water and crouched in front of Michonne, silently offering it to her. Accepting the glass with a shaking hand, Michonne took a long drink and then sat back, tearing her gaze from his daughter back to him.

"Thank you. I'm okay. I'm just..." Michonne closed her eyes and pulled her lips in, determined not to let her new allies see her weakness. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she opened them to see Rick standing next to Carl and the both of them looking at her with concern. The baby was preoccupied with a plastic cup Carl had handed her.

"You have a baby."

"Yes, this is Judith. She's my daughter."

"Your daughter. She's yours." Michonne had a million questions and tried to pace herself so she didn't scare them away. "How old is she?"

"Just over a year old."

Michonne nodded and stood up, slowly walking towards the baby, taking in her plump cheeks and clear gaze. "She was born during all of this. You had a baby in all of _this_?"

Rick nodded, not adding details for fear of making her upset.

Michonne smiled and reached out a single finger to gently touch one of the curls in the back of Judith's head. Feeling the soft hair brush her fingertip, Michonne was reassured the baby was real.

 _Miracles still happened._

Nodding and willing the tears in her eyes not to fall, Michonne bought herself some time and refilled her glass of water. After a long drink, she turned back around and saw that she was alone with Rick in the kitchen.

"I sent Carl into the living room with Judith since she upset you..."

Michonne shook her head, wanting to quickly allay Rick's concern, "Oh no, please. She didn't upset me. I just...I haven't seen a baby since before...everything. There are no children in my community under the age of ten. She was unexpected, that's all."

Rick knew there was a great deal more to her reaction than surprise but he didn't know her well enough to push her for her story.

 _Not yet._

Michonne leaned back against the counter, starting to feel more like herself. Tilting her head, she considered Rick for a long moment, meeting his gaze as she put the pieces together.

"You lost your home a few months ago. The home Judith was born in."

"Yes we did."

"And then you were on the road for a month or so as you and your people traveled from Georgia to Virginia."

A silent nod.

Michonne took this information in and when she figured it all out, some of the fractures in her heart began to fill in just a bit.

"You traveled five hundred miles from Georgia to Richmond Virginia and then another hundred miles here with _a baby_. A baby who could cry at any time. A baby who could draw the wrong kind of attention at any time and you not only kept her alive, you raised her. She's healthy and happy."

Rick wasn't sure how to respond so he went with his gut, "She's my daughter. I would do anything for her. Fight anyone or any _thing_ and I'd walk a _thousand_ miles to keep her safe."

 _Oh this man. This wonderful man._ He had no idea what a gift he was to his children and to his extended family. Michonne hoped she knew him long enough to tell him. Having only known him a day, it was way too soon to sing his praises.

Instead, Michonne gave him a simple nod, "She's lucky to have you. Now what about that lunch you promised me?"

Rick smiled and headed toward the fridge, taking Michonne up on her need for a distraction. Someday he would ask her how she lost her child or children because, based on her reaction to Judith, she most certainly had. For now, he'd give her the space she needed.

After all, he'd only known her a day and he was a gentleman.

After enjoying a quiet lunch with Rick and his children, Michonne set out for her tour of the town, excited to see what it had to offer. Rick took her to the pantry, where she made a mental list of what Hilltop could provide to replenish its shelves and then to the armory where she took in the racks of pistols, rifles, semi-automatic and automatic guns. She was impressed by the number of guns for a community their size and was happy to see there would be enough to arm her community, to supplement her archers.

They'd have to be trained of course. She added that to her list of things to discuss with Rick.

As they exited the armory, her gaze was drawn to a three car garage with a great deal of activity going on inside. Several men walking in and out and what looked like an industrial size stovetop with numerous pots being heated up. Curious, Michonne turned to Rick, "What's in that building over there?"

Rick followed her gaze and simply grinned, "Have I formally introduced you to Eugene?"

A minute later, Michonne followed Rick into the garage in time to see a rather portly man with a mullet transfer small pieces of hot metal to the flat surface next to the stove and then pick up a hammer.

"Eugene, I'm sure you remember Michonne? She was curious about your operation here and I thought I'd let you fill her in."

Eugene removed his heavy gloves and Michonne thought he looked like he was about to bow but stopped himself at the last minute, thankfully remembering he was in the 21st century.

"I do remember you, Ms. Sauveterre, as your speech in the church left a lasting impression and has motivated me and my team to work morning noon and many a night to assist you in your mission."

Hearing her name pronounced with a distinct Texas drawl was one thing but his formal way of speaking elevated his charm to a whole other level and it was all Michonne could do not to grin from ear to ear. Instead, she gave Eugene the polite nod he would expect from the commanding General or...Queen...he apparently took her for.

"Please call me Michonne, Eugene. What exactly are you and your team working on here?"

Eugene stood a bit taller and Michonne swore he puffed out his chest a bit.

"We call it the Game Changer, Ms. Michonne, the Game Changer. Or as my Daddy's uncle used to call it...'Putting the screws to Uncle Sam the redneck way.'"

Michonne turned to Rick and raised a brow at the twinkle of amusement lighting his blue eyes.

Rick took pity on the urbane, sophisticated leader and turned to Eugene, "Speak plainly Eugene. Michonne doesn't know you well enough yet."

Eugene nodded and once again stood at attention as he addressed his new co-leader with the barest hint of a dry smile twitching his lips.

"We're making bullets, M'am." At Michonne's widened eyes and gasp of surprise, Eugene gave another quick nod.

"Game changer."

 **Hilltop**

Jesus followed Laura into the communications room, his mind working quickly as he approached the HAM radio in the middle of the room. Knowing who was on the other end, he took a deep breath as he sat down and picked up the radio handset, pressing the button immediately in order to not second guess himself.

"Hello Negan."

There was a very long pause. Utter silence and Jesus knew Negan was probably throwing something against the wall on the other end.

About thirty seconds later...

"Well, this is certainly _not_ the person I was expecting to speak to on my brand new shiny toy. I really wanted Michonne to be my first and instead I get Lackey #1. That makes me very unhappy. _Where is she?"_

Jesus dropped his forehead to rest on the handset as he pressed its button once more to speak.

"She's unavailable. Is there something I can help you with?"

"No _shit_ she's unavailable. If she were _available_ , I'd be hearing _her_ voice instead of your annoying-as-all-fuck one, now wouldn't I? And if you could help me, I would have asked for _you_ , now wouldn't I?" Another brutal pause that Jesus let stand, knowing Negan wasn't done. "Let's try this again Hay- _soos_. Where the _fuck_ is Michonne? I need to speak to her _now_."

Jesus considered lying to Negan but knew it would only make things worse.

"I'll get her," He looked at the clock next to the radio. "Give me thirty minutes."

"A minute more and you're going to have very pissed off, unexpected visitors. You don't want that, trust me."

 _Click._

Jesus stared at the clock. 2:32 pm.

Please let her check in early. _Please._

**Alexandria**

Michonne had a crush. A crush on the wonderful man before her with a crazy mullet, a Texas drawl and the mind of a savant.

She wanted to bring him home with her and show him off to her people.

As Eugene finished giving her the tour of his operations and walked her through the bullet making process, he showed her the three prototypes they had completed. Three different caliber bullets all successfully fired from their weapons.

Holding one of the prototypes between her fingers, Michonne gave Eugene a blinding smile that brought a red tinge to his cheeks.

"You know the way to a lady's heart, Eugene. I could hug you right now."

The red tinge deepened as Eugene backed away a step.

"With all due respect, M'am, while I deeply admire your intelligence, courage and beauty...," a pause as he sent a guilty look toward Rick who reared back in surprise.

 _Why are you looking at me? I'm not her Dad OR her husband._

Silent exchange complete, Eugene continued, "...I do not intend to win your heart as that should be reserved for a man far greater than myself. Instead, I will be content to continue making my bullets, imperfect as they may be."

Michonne couldn't stop smiling. This man really was too much.

"Imperfect? What do you mean?"

"The casings aren't perfectly smooth. Our methods working with metal are plebian at best and amateur at worst. We don't have the heat or the tools to correctly work with the metal and we are far from artists but we do what we can."

Michonne looked over at Rick who seemed to still be hung up on words exchanged earlier as he muttered to himself while looking at the ground. She swore she heard the words, "you're allowed to thinks she's beautiful' and there might have been a 'for crissakes' in there as well but it was hard to be sure.

Oh well, let him miss her bonding moment. This was between her and Eugene, her new best friend.

"Hey Eugene?"

"Yes, M'am?"

"You say you need an artist with the tools and experience with molding metal?"

"I do M'am. That would make our game changer a sure bet."

"I have a _blacksmith_ , Eugene. Bending metal is all he does all day long. What do you say about _that_?"

A long pause and then Eugene allowed a wider grin to crease his round face.

"Consider yourself hugged M'am. You've just made one man very, very happy."

Twenty minutes later, at Michonne's request, Rick brought Abraham into the office set up behind the community center, just in time to see Michonne stand up from plugging in what looked to be a HAM radio of some kind. They actually had several in Alexandria but gave up a long time ago trying to communicate with anyone due to the constant dead air.

Michonne turned to greet the men, anticipation lighting her eyes, "Abraham, can I assume your time in the military exposed you to these radios?"

"Yes indeed, I am more than acquainted with these bad boys."

"Excellent, can you take a look at Jesus' directions that he included with the radio and get us connected?"

Abraham looked at the radio and then back at Michonne, "Well, ain't that the shit's and grins. We're going to actually have someone to _talk_ to at last. Give me two minutes."

 **Hilltop**

 _2:54_

Jesus held the handset in his hand, thumb poised by the talk button as it had been for over twenty minutes.

 _Come on Michonne. You live by the clock. Don't pick today to start new habits._

"Jesus, come in please. Over."

 _Oh thank god..._

"I'm here Michonne. Listen to me please. You have to switch over to channel 3 right now. Negan has been looking for you and he's not happy to be kept waiting. I didn't tell him you were in Alexandria. Over."

Silence. Then...

"Understood. I'll take it from here and will call you back when I'm done. Hold tight."

Jesus let out a relieved breath and leaned back in his chair, wiping his sweaty palms onto his pants.

 _I'm too old for this shit and I'm not even thirty yet._

 **Alexandria**

Michonne knew that the two silent men standing behind her heard every word but couldn't worry about them now.

 _She had a pissed off killer to deal with._

Switching the radio over to the agreed upon channel, Michonne spoke into the radio, keeping her tone even and low.

"Negan, it's Michonne, are you there? Over."

Silence. At least a minute's worth even though Michonne was certain the bastard hadn't moved from his spot in front of the radio she had gifted him upon his agreement on the alliance.

It was all about control with Negan. He hated giving up even a little bit of it and this was his way of putting her in her place.

 _And then..._

"Hello beautiful. Glad you could find time in your day to slum it with me."

Michonne lowered her forehead onto the handset, praying to whoever was left up there to grant her patience.

"Negan, I've got a community to run and can't hang out in front of the radio all day long waiting for you to call. What do you _need_?"

"See that's the thing sweetheart. I'm willing to bet my favorite wife's right hand that you are not even _in_ your community right now, _are you_?"

More silence as Michonne looked over her shoulder at a silent, stoic Abraham and an infuriated Rick Grimes who looked like he was ready to reach through the radio and get some serious strangling done.

 _Men._

Done with the melodrama and Negan's petulance, Michonne pushed the button to speak once again, needing to move on with her day.

"No, Negan, I'm not with my community. I'm in Alexandria. Remember them? Well, I'm visiting them today to gain their alliance in truth since their leader wanted everyone to vote on it. I got their vote and they will be joining our fight. I am here as the leader of Hilltop, performing my leadership duties. I am not here to hurt your feelings or make you feel left out. And before you start to measure your dick against Rick Grimes', _don't_. Just don't. Put it away for another day, tell me what you need to tell me and _let me finish my business!_

Michonne lifted the talk button and threw another look over her shoulder, this time accompanied with a glare, daring the men behind her to disapprove of her words.

She found Abraham's chest shaking with suppressed laughter as he gave her a jaunty salute. And Rick...

Well she didn't know what to make of Rick. He had some type of heated look going on as he stared at her, his jaw flexing with contained emotion.

He was either terribly pissed off and doing a poor job hiding it or just a little turned on and doing a better job hiding it.

She voted for pissed off as that was just how her day was going.

Sighing, she turned back to glare at the radio, imagining Negan running his finger over the talk button with that shit eating grin on his face.

 _And then..._

"Well, shit, darlin' when you want to talk dirty to me, make sure we're alone next time okay? Hey, maybe we can set up little rendezvous times to whisper sweet nothings in each other's ear, whattaya say? Hmm? Too soon? Okay, I can wait."

Another beat of silence that Michonne refused to fill as it was just indulging his foolishness.

 _And then..._

"Alright, listen up. And if Deputy Dan is around, have him listen in too. I'm not shy."

Rick walked closer to the radio, ignoring the mocking nickname.

"I'm coming to pay you a visit and I'm bringing company. You'd best pile into whatever piece of shit Chevy or Ford the Deputy has available and get your asses over to Hilltop. I've got someone I'd like you to meet. You're gonna _love_ him."

Michonne looked up to find Rick standing right beside her chair, leaning on the table and glaring at the radio. She pressed the button to speak.

"Who is it Negan?"

"Why one of those follower freaks, of course. Alpha's minion? A skin wearing, drooling maniac? Ring any bells? Come on darling, keep up."

 _He's got one of them. This may be the break they needed._

"I'm on my way. Give me a couple of hours."

"Oh come on sweetheart, let's make this a party! I'm bringing the gift, the least you can do is bring the clown. That's _you_ Deputy. Come along for the ride. We'll have a few beers, hold hands, plan war and all that shit. It'll be _fun_. See you soon! Over."

With that, Michonne leaned back in her chair and took a breath then slapped her hands on her legs and stood up to face Rick who stood not a foot away, still glaring at the radio.

"Hey." After a moment, Rick moved his gaze from the radio to her, softening it only slightly for her benefit.

"Are you ready to do this?" And by this, she meant was he ready to be in the same room with the man he hated most in the world, the man his town had entered into an alliance with just a few hours earlier.

Rick nodded, glancing at Abraham and then giving her a long look, pure steel in his eyes.

"Let's go."

 **A/N: I have to be honest. Negan is so freaking fun to write. He's such a colorful character and I can make him as outrageous as I want to and he's still close to his canon counterpart. Love him! I can't wait to see how he and Rick react when they're in the same room together. With Michonne between them...(Fans self and returns to the keyboard)**


	7. Fools Rush In

**A/N: Sorry for the delay as R/L got in the way this month. Recap: Negan is bringing a Whisperer prisoner to Hilltop to meet with Rick and Michonne. Let's watch the fireworks, shall we? Oh, and please indulge this writer who didn't want to give up many words in this chapter so it's very long. Just look at it like two chapters worth of content without having to click 'next'!**

 _In the dark days, there were no bombs to keep enemies at bay and there was no cold war. Only the heat of potential slaughter, of blood flowing freely on the streets. It was Medieval, primal and forced Man to be his most basic, violent self._

 _Those who survived rose above the urge to kill or be killed. The survivors thought beyond the battles and remembered what they fought for._

 _The future._

 **(2AV) Road to Hilltop**

As the van sped north toward her home, Michonne looked over at Carl sitting silently next to her in the second row while Eugene's quiet shuffling of paper was white noise in the back seat. Rick and Aaron carried on a discussion about area roadways and routes in the front.

After their radio discussion with Negan, Rick and Michonne jumped to action, anxious to return to Hilltop and meet their prisoner. In the end, they decided to leave Rick's soldiers behind to defend Alexandria in the event more of the Whisperer scouts were in the area and keep their traveling group small.

As Michonne studied the teenager next to her, she recalled the argument he had with his father just an hour earlier. While Rick was adamant that Carl stay behind, Carl wore him down with his insistence on staying with him, knowing that Negan was going to be at Hilltop as well. This would be the first time Rick would see Negan since losing his best friend and Carl wanted to make certain nothing happened.

In the end, Rick couldn't resist his son's concern and Carl got his way. Michonne invited Eugene to come along so that he could meet her blacksmith and she also suggested Aaron join them in order to work with Jesus on mapping the area surrounding all three of their communities.

When Google went away, humans once again became invaluable.

"Carl."

He didn't even turn his head when he responded but instead kept it focused on the trees passing by in a blur.

"What?"

"I know you're worried but I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure Negan stays in line. I promise you."

Carl turned to Michonne, his remaining eye displaying weariness way beyond his years.

 _Oh Carl, what have you seen?_

"You can promise all you want. I've seen what this man can do. What he's capable of."

"You're right. And that's why I'm going to have my men shadowing him every minute he's at Hilltop and he'll be stripped of his weapons when he enters. " Michonne sighed to herself as the boy simply shook his head and looked out the window once more.

Gently placing her fingers on his sleeve, Michonne continued when he faced her once again.

"I would never put my people at risk and I certainly wouldn't put you, your Dad or any of _your_ people at risk. I know Negan very well. How he thinks. He's not going to try anything while unarmed and without back up. He also knows this truce and alliance is to his benefit and he won't blow it."

As Aaron continued discussing the routes around the area, Rick eavesdropped on the quiet conversation behind him and was once again impressed with how Michonne dealt with his son. She didn't talk down to him and offer him platitudes, but instead gave him facts and logic, two things that he knew Carl would appreciate. She treated him like the adult he was quickly becoming and he was grateful for that.

However, he'd be lying to himself if he said Michonne's assertion about how well she knew Negan didn't bother him.

It bothered him more than he cared to admit this early in their partnership and had to remind himself that this was _business_ and that it actually benefited his community that Michonne understood how to best deal with Negan.

But sometimes, his brain wasn't the part of him in charge and he was going to have to work on righting that wrong.

Just as Rick pulled into the hidden parking spot near the road to Hilltop, Michonne was gratified to finally get a nod from Carl and she was determined to make the teen's first visit to her community a positive one.

Exiting out of the van, the group grabbed their backpacks and made their way to the small stable. For the first time on their trip, Michonne saw excitement on Carl's face.

As they entered the stable, Michonne quickly noted that there were seven horses inside which meant that they were ahead of Negan and the Savior who was accompanying him. _Good_. She didn't like the idea of him being at Hilltop without her there.

Michonne approached her horse, Shiloh, with a smile and patted her velvety nose, "You miss me Sweetheart? Hmm?"

As Rick led the horse he claimed for himself through the stable, his heart picked up pace as he listened to Michonne's low, whispered greeting and watched her slender fingers run down her horse's nose. Shaking his head to re-focus on the task at hand, he made sure Carl was settled with his ride and then mounted his own once he was out in the clearing.

Michonne watched Aaron hop onto his horse with ease and guessed that skill was picked up during his years traveling the world. After mounting Shiloh, she tilted her head in bemusement as she watched Eugene holding eye contact with his horse for a long moment.

"Do you know how to ride, Eugene? We can help..."

"I grew up in West Texas, Miss Michonne, and no self respecting West Texan reaches his majority without being acquainted with one of these fine creatures. As it has been a number of years since I've been in the saddle, I am taking some time to let my horse know who is in charge. I am confident he and I understand each other now."

Even with the dire circumstances forcing their trip today, Michonne felt herself stifling a laugh as this strange man entertained her. With a small smile, Michonne nodded and led the group toward the road to her community.

About ten minutes into the ride, the horses started their climb and Carl took a moment to observe his surroundings. It was very green, with open pastures surrounded by woods in the near distance and he came to a realization.

"There are no moans. It's completely quiet up here."

Michonne turned to Carl, pride creeping into her voice.

"We cleared the plateau area over a year ago and since the dead aren't good climbers, we've been pretty much free of them ever since. The only sound we get up here are the ones nature intends."

Rick leaned forward in his saddle, relaxed for the first time in a very long time, enjoying the peace, the beautiful scenery _and_ the company.

"It's even better at night with nothing but the stars above you. Makes a person really glad they're alive." This last said as he looked directly into Michonne's eyes, sharing his memory of their night ride together through his smile.

Michonne smiled back while her heart rate responded to the subtle dose of southern charm. A _potent_ dose when delivered by a too attractive former lawman.

 _You're trying to save the world, Michonne. Not snag a date. Those days are long gone._

Fortunately, she was distracted from her wayward thoughts by arriving at the tree with the horn hanging from it. Grabbing it off of the branch, Michonne sounded the series of notes that heralded their arrival.

 _Oh Christ_. Watching Michonne's full lips wrap around the mouthpiece of the horn made Rick shift uncomfortably in the saddle, grateful for the presence of the other members of their party as they served as a much needed distraction.

What was it about this woman that woke up urges he hadn't felt in...well _a very long time?_ He was about to see his sworn enemy for the first time since losing Daryl and should be focused on _that_ , not about how soft her lips were or how her dark skin shone in the sunlight.

Or how her slender, curvy body moved as one with her horse.

 _Get a grip, Grimes, and focus on the mission, dammit._

As they crested the final hill, Carl's gaze widened as he saw the twenty foot high walls looming over them. It was cool enough that Michonne used an animal horn to signal her people, just like they did a thousand years ago, but he was now riding towards a community that looked like something from a movie set. He watched as the two archers (archers!) slung their bows onto their backs so they could open the gates using a pulley system. He hadn't even entered the gates and already wanted to learn everything about Hilltop. How did they draw power? Where did they train? How did they protect their crops?

As the huge gates opened, a drawbridge lowered over the ditches and Carl couldn't stop the grin that stretched from ear to ear.

 _Oh, he was definitely going to like it here._

Michonne smiled to herself as she took in the delight lighting up Carl's face and, for the first time since she met him, he actually looked his age. He was a teenage boy on an adventure and she was so happy he came along.

As Michonne led her group over the bridge and into the courtyard, the sunlight bounced off of something immediately to the right of the gate and she swiveled her head to look.

Motorcycles. Two motorcycles, one with a large side cab, restraints hanging off the side. _Oh damn_.

Negan was here.

Jumping off of her horse, Michonne barely noticed the others dismounting as she strode quickly towards Jesus who was jogging up to her, reading her mind as always. Coming to a stop in front of her, he laid a hand on her arm and spoke softly and quickly, using the shorthand they had adopted with each other long ago.

"He got here about an hour ago with one of his soldiers. We had them lay down their guns before opening the gates and they've had shadows ever since. The doc is treating the prisoner as he was in pretty bad shape and he should be done with him shortly. Negan is..."

"I see him. Thanks Jesus. Look for signs of World War 3 okay?" This said while her eyes met Negan's across the courtyard as he watched them arrive from his vantage point leaning against the pillar on the mansion's porch.

"You got it."

Looking over to the rest of the party, Michonne saw the moment Rick noticed Negan. He had just slung his pack over his shoulder and was helping Carl with his when he spotted him out of the corner of his eye, stood very still for a moment, and then slowly turned to face him straight on.

 _Here we go. Time to earn your title Michonne._

Gesturing for Jesus to follow her, Michonne walked over to her guests, who, by now, had all noticed the early arrival and who stood tense and still as a united front. Michonne wasn't certain if they thought of themselves as the prey or the predator at this point, but she knew Negan had the same cocky, arrogant grin he always wore like a Halloween mask and that wasn't go to sit well with Rick's group.

"Alright, listen up. We knew Negan was coming. Remember why we're here. To gain information from our prisoner and to figure out how our communities are going to work together. Negan is going to do his best to get a rise out of all of you. It's what he does, what he's good at. Don't let him have that power over you. Show no fear..."

"I am not afraid of that son of a bitch..." growled Rick, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

Michonne continued, "Show no fear and stay calm. He will hit fast and hit hard. The only way we're going to get through this is if you disarm him with indifference. Please trust me on this, okay?"

Slow nods from Aaron and Eugene, with Eugene already eyeing the black smith's work area as an escape route from the drama. Carl took longer but his own thoughts must have brought him to the same conclusion as he nodded as well, his gaze never leaving Negan's.

Rick's response took longer than Michonne was comfortable with and she walked closer to stand directly in front of him, hoping to block his view from Negan but failing due to the difference in their heights. Looking over her shoulder, Michonne's heart raced as she noted Negan's cocky, carefree grin had disappeared and he was now locked in a wordless war with Rick, his gaze cold and reaching across the courtyard to hold them in its grip.

Taking a deep breath, Michonne lightly touched Rick's arm which had the immediate effect of pivoting his piercing blue gaze from Negan to her and her breath let out in a small gasp.

 _This was a man who has killed and will kill again to protect the ones he loved_. Of that she had not doubt. She didn't know him like she did Negan but she had to try to get through to him.

"Rick, listen to me. Our interactions with Negan today will set us up for how this alliance will carry on. Please remember our mission. He'll never be your friend, I know that. But we _need_ to work with him, okay? Can you promise me you'll try to make this work?"

Rick stared into Michonne's big brown eyes, sinking into those dark pools and he felt his tense muscles relax, felt the tension and stress of meeting with Daryl's killer slowly leave his body. Michonne was depending on him. His community was depending on him.

He could fake it with this asshole. He'd had to do worse since the world went to hell.

Taking a deep breath, Rick nodded his agreement and was rewarded with a quick, blinding smile as Michonne nodded her thanks.

With an apologetic look to her visitors, Michonne took care of one more item of business. "I'll need you all to leave your guns here. Thomas will collect them and they'll be returned to you when you leave. We can't risk having you or Negan armed until this alliance is settled, okay?"

Nods all around as they handed their guns over to the man standing behind them with a cart. Rick hesitated, stared once more at Negan, observing the man's empty holster, and then finally removed his pistol and handed it over.

Taking a fortifying breath, Michonne smiled once more and gestured for them to follow her to the house.

 _He would never get tired of watching this woman walk toward him_. _Never_. Negan suppressed his excitement at interacting with Michonne again. He didn't realize how much he had missed her until he met up with her in that small cabin. _She_ was all about business but it was more for him.

So much more.

She excited him, made his mind empty of anything but her when she was around. He had to be very careful or he'd turn into one of the lapdogs following her around.

 _Like Grimes._

That asshole didn't even realize that he allowed himself to be led around by the short hairs and looked happy doing it. Negan chuckled as he stood straight from his position against the pillar.

Michonne needed a real man, not another lackey to add to her collection. As the group approached the porch, Negan purposefully stretched his mouth into a wide grin, knowing the impact baring his white teeth had on the Deputy and the kid.

 _Showtime._

Rick kept his hands relaxed at his sides when he wanted to do nothing but punch that stupid grin off of Negan's face. He hated how at home Negan looked on that porch, as if he were the goddamn lord of the manor when he was nothing but a banished traitor who was here out of _need_ , definitely not _want_.

 _Don't kill him today. There will be time for that after the battles were won._

"Hey beautiful lady! I've been waiting for you. "

Michonne cringed slightly as she walked up the steps to the porch, the rest of her group close behind her. Negan was already pushing buttons with his greeting and she had to set him straight. Stopping directly in front of him, she put her hands loosely on her hips and stared up into his laughing eyes, willing him to behave with her gaze.

"I left horses for you Negan. You know we don't allow vehicles up to the gate. And we definitely don't want motorcycles ringing the dinner bell throughout the countryside."

"My man Samuel and I drove a truck and pulled the bikes on a trailer. We only drove them to get over the blown up part of your road. It's all good. We're here together now. _One big happy family_." His grin growing wider, Negan surveyed the small group assembled on the porch, resisting the urge to rub his hands in glee.

"Let's see who we have here. I see Walker Chow rocking his mullet and fistful of sketches and Pretty Boy with a bunch of..." he made a show of tilting his head and squinting at the papers clutched in Aaron's hands, " _oohhh_ ...maps? How _exciting_. You make sure to hook up...oops!..sorry... _meet with_ my man Samuel, okay? He knows all the ins and outs around here and would love to ' _strategize_ '", with air quotes for effect, "with you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Negan saw Michonne open her mouth to interrupt his teasing and then close it again as she looked over at Grimes standing on the other side of the porch. Swiveling his head, Negan caught Rick shaking his head no, directing Michonne to not come to his defense.

Oh so the deputy wanted to play, did he? _Let's see if we can push Dad's buttons just a little bit_.

Walking up to Carl, Negan was aware of the tension coming off of Grimes, who stood right next to his son. _I bet he wants to fillet me like a fish right here, right now_. Too bad there was an army of the insane heading their way or the two of them could really go at it.

 _Nah_. He wouldn't want to get blood on Michonne's pretty porch. That would be rude.

"Hey kid, I remember you. You freaked me the hell out that night in the woods. I'm used to seeing kids with _two_ eyes, not one."

Rick controlled his rage and overwhelming desire to end Negan by remembering why he was here.

 _Carl._

Negan continued, "I gotta admit, you distracted me. Not enough that I couldn't successfully defend my group by killing the archer, but it was _close_."

 _Judith._

"I mean, Holy SHIT, it has to suck. It's hard enough being a kid in this fucked up world, isn't it? No school, no joy riding in your dad's beater Buick, no prom, not that you'd go to one with just one eye..."

 _Maggie. Glen. Abraham._

"But to go through this world _half blind_?" Negan shook his head with fake empathy, putting on a show. "You better stay inside those walls with Walker Chow and the old ladies, because out here? You're fucked more ways than a hooker on a bend..."

 _The fifty four souls in Alexandria._

"Negan, that's enough! Knock it off!" Michonne could see right through what Negan was doing. He was trying to get a rise out Rick and it was sickening to listen to. She had to regain control over the situation or this alliance would end before it even begun.

Negan threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry sweetheart, I was just reacquainting myself with my new friends here, that's all. My social skills are a bit lacking as I don't get out much these days." Turning his gaze to the very silent and still Rick Grimes, Negan hid his surprise behind his smile.

 _He's a cold prick, isn't he? No expression, no clenching of the fist. Maybe he's just another crazy who's checked out of the game._

"How're you doing Deputy? Lose any more best friends lately? Scary world out there, ain't it?"

Rick was going to keep it together so Daryl's death wasn't in vain. He was going to protect his community at all costs, even if it meant putting off the execution of this asshole for another day. Taking a deep breath, Rick tilted his head and allowed a small smile to curve his mouth.

"You're right, Negan. The world _is_ a scary place. And while you're out here doing your 'Big Bad' routine, the real grown-ups will be in Michonne's office _saving_ it. Feel free to join us when you're done." With that parting shot, Rick walked towards the front door, leading his group behind him. As they entered the building, Negan could hear Rick's annoying southern drawl cut through the humid air.

"Hey Michonne, you got any more of that delicious homemade lemonade? I've really worked up a thirst."

Negan clenched his fists as he stared down at the porch steps, willing his temper to subside.

"You can't always win, Negan. It's good to be reminded of that once in awhile."

Negan lifted his head to meet the amused gaze of Jesus, a man of only average height and build but who was lethal with his hands and an expert fighter. Negan wouldn't take his anger out on him. Not today at least.

Putting his amiable mask back in place, Negan grinned and gestured for Jesus to precede him into the house. "There's always tomorrow, Hay-soos. Always tomorrow."

Once everyone was inside the two story entryway, Michonne had a brief conversation with Jesus on the logistics for the next hour or two. Nodding his head, Jesus gathered Aaron, Eugene and Carl into a group for a brief tour of Hilltop and then they would split off from there.

Michonne beckoned for Rick and Negan to follow her down the hall toward her office in the back of the mansion. The hallway was wide enough to walk three across and Michonne felt slightly uneasy sandwiched between the two warriors as they made their way silently through the house, tension emanating from each man. She broke the silence with her immediate plan.

She started by turning to Negan, craning her head back to meet his gaze in the close space of the hallway. "You can wait in my office while Rick and I interrogate the prisoner. He'll most likely clam up if you're there considering what you've done to him."

Negan looked down, appreciating the view his vantage point gave him as his gaze lingered on Michonne's subtle cleavage. She was a classy lady but her body was fucking incredible and needed to be clothed in short tight dresses, not her endless supply of tank tops and pants.

If he could get her to his home, he would gift her with a few dresses that his wives hadn't worn for him yet.

Slowly lifting his gaze, he shrugged apologetically at the annoyance in hers, as if to say, " _Hey I'm a man with a pulse. Sue me."_

"You got it boss. I'll hang out in your office awaiting your pleasure. _And mine_."

Rolling her eyes at Negan's nonsense, she turned to Rick to find him glaring daggers at Negan from her right side and suddenly felt like a bone between two hungry dogs.

"Are you good with this?"

Tearing his gaze from Negan and denying himself the pleasure of blackening the eyes that had ogled Michonne just now, Rick focused on the woman beside him, nodding his agreement.

"Yeah, I'm good."

As they approached her office, Negan made a show of stopping and opening the door with a flourish. "Here's my stop! Do you still have that fancy chess set in there? I always wanted to play but no one ever wanted to take me on. I'd love to get my hands on those pieces."

 _Dammit_. Negan just couldn't stop pushing buttons, could he? Michonne gestured him inside as she spotted Thomas coming down the corridor to take his position in the hallway as Negan's shadow.

"It's in there. Play away. Rick and I will come back when we're done." With that, she nodded to Thomas as Negan closed the door behind him with a chuckle.

Once again walking down the hallway, this time with more breathing room, Michonne turned to Rick, noting the clenching of his jaw as Negan's misguided charm made its typical impact of pissing him off.

"Negan was in that office only a handful times while Gregory was leader. And no one wanted to play chess with him because they were either frightened of him or simply wanted to avoid him like the plague. Trust me, he wasn't very popular and kept to his group of thugs and hangers on."

Rick responded with a terse nod, eyes straight ahead as they approached the room the prisoner was housed in. Finally, Rick turned to Michonne, all business now.

"You should do the talking and I'll stay in the background. He just got the shit kicked out of him and most likely won't react to another man so our best shot is you taking the lead. Just use your quiet therapist voice and he'll cave. I'm sure of it."

Michonne raised a brow, "Quiet therapist voice?"

Rick's cheeks pinkened a bit at the slip. "Yeah, um...you have a way of taking control of a conversation without raising your voice. It's very effective." He cleared his throat, suddenly motivated to get on with their task. " _Anyway_ , you've got this. Get him to trust you and reassure him he won't be harmed and he'll spill. He won't be able to resist."

Michonne tilted her head as a smile curved her lips. "Such faith you have in me, Rick Grimes. I'll do my best."

Rick simply nodded, "I wouldn't expect any less."

 **Antechamber Outside of Michonne's Office**

As Jesus spread the map of the counties surrounding D.C. out on the wide table, he glanced over at Aaron, the man Michonne assigned to work with him to identify routes to and from where the Whisperers camp was. The goal was to try to identify the most likely routes they would attack from.

 _He was exactly his type_. Tall, lean build and handsome in a boy scout sort of way. If the world hadn't gone to hell and they had met at a party or at work, Jesus would have been interested immediately.

But the world _had_ gone to hell so Jesus would instead hold his admiration at a safe distance and keep this relationship strictly business.

"So Michonne tells me you're Alexandria's primary recruiter? And that's how you know the area so well?"

Aaron tried to hold the gaze of the man sitting across from him but those light blue eyes made him turn red if he looked too long so he focused on the map in front of him instead.

"Yes, I found myself more at home on the road looking for others than I did playing cards behind steel walls so I volunteered to go out. It reminded me of my days driving a jeep through war torn villages in Africa, avoiding rebel armies as I worked to hook up village schools to the internet. Instead of rebels, it's walkers and bad guys these days."

Jesus sat back in his chair, stunned into silence. _Oh Michonne, you evil girl. What have you done_?

"You were in Africa? And you worked with _computers_?"

Aaron continued to examine the map, tracing routes with his finger, oblivious to the change in demeanor from his new teammate.

"Yes, I spent three years in the Niger River Delta, installing computers and servers for schools and municipal buildings for the NGO I worked for. It was scary and nerve wracking but very rewarding."

When only silence met his statement, Aaron finally looked up to meet a look of amazement on Jesus' beautiful face.

"What is it?"

Jesus shook his head, wondering if he had the strength to fight fate on this one.

"I spent my whole career as a graphic designer in Africa and Asia setting up websites for rural businesses on behalf of the non-profit I worked for." Finally, Jesus allowed a smile to light up his face as he accepted the gift this world had given him, if only to see where it would take him.

"I think you and I are going to be fast friends, Aaron. And who knows? Maybe we'll figure out how to reinvent Apple."

Aaron laughed and didn't even look away when the blush stole across his face.

 **Interrogation Room**

As Michonne entered the small room, she observed the tall, wiry man restrained in the cushioned chair near the window. Negan had done a number on his face as he sported several stitches and bandages and his one eye was swollen shut with the other one nearly there.

 _Oh Negan, you don't make my job easy, do you?_

Now that she was seated across from her prisoner, Rick leaning against the wall behind her, Michonne hoped she lived up to his expectations.

"Hi. My name is Michonne and I'm the leader of this community. This is Rick and he leads another community not too far from here. We're very sorry for how you've been treated and I want to reassure you that we're not like that. We just want to talk, okay?"

The man tilted his head, taking in her appearance, his gaze then moving over her shoulder to look at Rick for several long moments. Seeming satisfied, the man gave a short nod.

Michonne smiled, "Can we start by getting your name? It will make our talk a lot easier."

"You can call me John." This said with a small smile, telling Michonne that it wasn't his real name but would do for now. She would pick her battles.

"Okay John. I'm going to share some information with you and then I hope you'll feel comfortable sharing some information with me. I run a farming community here and we are a peaceful group, just looking to grow our crops and try to grow as old as possible in this crazy world. I'm sure you can understand that, right?" This with another gentle smile which was rewarded with a responding smile and nod.

"Well, a week or so ago, some of my people came across a group from your community who wanted to do them harm. Wanted to kill them. Now, fortunately, my group was able to survive but I must say it was very concerning to us to be attacked like that. So I reached out to Negan and Rick for help and we're working together to try to figure out what's going on. We're hoping you can share some information so we can avoid a fight."

John gazed at Michonne with his one good eye, his stare vacant of emotion or personality and he may as well been an automaton as he responded in monotone.

"I'm not sure what I can do. You seem to have it all figured out. I like your walls and your ditches. You have a very nice community here, what little I saw of it when I arrived."

"Oh there is a lot you can do, John. I'd love to know more about Alpha and the Whisperers. Your camp."

Michonne saw the shock cross his face at her knowledge before he quickly masked it. He didn't expect any of his fellow community members surviving the skirmish with her people and certainly didn't expect a survivor spilling information like Lydia did.

Maybe now he would know it was futile to resist cooperating.

John sat up taller in the chair, his hands as animated as they could be within their restraints. "Alpha would like you. You're strong, a leader and Alpha would respect that in another woman."

Michonne leaned forward and smiled, encouraged that this man was opening up to her. Perhaps he would share...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the almost gleeful smile that curved the man's split lip.

"Yes, she would definitely respect you and would _honor_ you by wearing your skin after she turned you and then you could be a part of our community _forever_."

Heart filling with dread, Michonne leaned back in her chair, away from the prisoner. Rick strode up and tipped the man's chair back, getting right into his face.

"Listen to me," he growled with soft, quiet menace, "your best shot at seeing another morning is cooperating and scare tactics _aren't_ the way to do it, hear me? You better start talking..."

"Rick, it's okay. Put his chair down." Michonne had taken her moment to recover and was now ready to continue their conversation. She was grateful that Rick let the chair fall back onto all four legs with a thud and return to his spot behind her. She could feel the tension coming off of him as he passed by her chair and knew she had to wrap this up quickly or Rick would wrap it up for them by finishing what Negan had started.

 _Men_. Thousands of years of evolution and brutality _still_ bubbled up to the surface in times of conflict.

Leaning forward once more, Michonne matched John's smile with a small one of her own, making certain he saw nothing but a woman who was calm and in control.

"John, we're trying to help you here. Help us do that, will you?"

John shook his head with a chuckle, "Help me? I've been helped. I was helped over a year ago when Alpha saved me. When she showed me the way. No, I don't need help. You and your people? You're going to need help. _A lot of it_ when the circus comes to town." The prisoner laughed as if at an inside joke, turning his head to look outside the window.

Brows lowering in confusion at his nonsense, Michonne tried to get the conversation back on track.

"Why does Alpha want to fight us?"

John shook his head, "She doesn't want to fight you. Oh no, not at all. Alpha is not a warrior. She's not a conqueror. She is the end and the beginning. She is all and she is nothing. You will see this very soon and all will be well. All will be well." The last words spoken as a whisper as John continued to stare out the window.

With each word the man spoke, Michonne became more certain of his loosened grip on reality. If Alpha's entire group was made up of brainwashed devotees like him, there would be no talking their way out of a war, that was for sure.

With one last attempt at getting coherent intel from their prisoner, Michonne smiled again and asked gently, "Is everyone in your group as dedicated to Alpha like you? I'm impressed that she has so many dedicated followers. Alpha must be an incredible leader to inspire such devotion." _There_! Michonne saw a crack in the man's smug expression...just a tiny fissure, a twitch ...but for a moment there was _fear_.

This man wasn't devoted, he was _terrified._...and that gave Michonne hope even as it made her feel dread as well. He hadn't cracked after hours of being beaten and threatened with torture, but here she saw that he was terrified of the woman he asserted had saved him.

 _There was definitely more to the story._

Suddenly, John sighed and bowed his head, his whole body slumping in the chair.

"Michonne? That's your name, right? Michonne, I'd like to talk some more but can I rest for a little bit? Just a little bit, I promise. Your motorcycle friend really did a number on me and I can't think straight. Can we take a break?" With that, John lifted his head and Michonne saw clarity in his expression for the first time, a hint at the man he was before the world went to hell. He was still there, barely hanging on by a thread, and Michonne was determined to reach him before the day was over.

Standing up, she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, John, let me untie you so you can rest on that couch over there. I'm going to send in one of my men just to keep an eye on you, okay? But you're safe, I promise."

John smiled his gratitude, his swollen eyes crinkling in the corner as Michonne untied him from the chair, "Thank you Michonne, I really appreciate it."

As Rick and Michonne made their way to the door, John softly called across the room as he laid down on the couch, his voice already sleepy.

"One more favor? Could I have a glass of water please? All of this talking has made me parched. Thanks so much."

As Rick and Michonne made their way down the hall to Michonne's office where Negan awaited them, she replayed the session with their prisoner, trying to glean additional insight.

"You know he's just buying time with that resting bit, don't you?" Rick's question mirrored her own thoughts so Michonne simply nodded and then lifted her hand in an acknowledging wave as they passed Aaron and Jesus seated in the antechamber outside of her office, reviewing maps of the area.

They'll regroup and figure out how to deal with their prisoner _after_ dealing with the man who was on the other side of the door. Michonne took a fortifying breath and turned the knob.

 _No rest for the weary._

 **The Library**

Carl shut the large oak door behind him with a _click_ as he entered the library after exploring the grounds and house. After the tour Jesus had led them on, Eugene had made a direct beeline for the blacksmith's area and Aaron had followed Jesus to map out attack and defense routes, leaving Carl on his own.

Well, not completely alone. One of Michonne's men followed him at a discreet distance which didn't bother Carl as he knew it was for his own protection. Michonne wasn't leaving anything to chance considering Negan and one of his soldiers were behind the walls with him.

But the man stayed outside the library, leaving Carl to explore the large room by himself. His eye widened in awe as he took in the hundreds of books stacked two stories high, the sun shining through the floor to ceiling windows. He could spend years here and not read every book. Walking up to the shelves, he saw them organized by genre and quickly found the history section, anxious to find books about warfare so he could talk to Michonne...

 _What was that?_ Carl stopped running his fingers along the spines of the book and stood very still and quiet. _There!_ Over by the fireplace. The faintest disruption of the silence in the air. A subtle scrape along the floor. He very likely would have missed it had his senses not been honed by two years surviving by his instincts and, recently, by relying more heavily on his other senses after his vision was cut in half.

Continuing to run his fingers along the spines and casually stopping every so often, Carl slowly made his way towards the arrangement of wingback chairs and table at the end of the room. As he got closer, his ears picked up the quiet burst of breathing, as if someone was afraid but trying desperately to hide it.

He had a feeling he knew who was in the room with him. Stopping at the end of the bookshelf, Carl pulled a random book and leafed through it, knowing that he was being watched and judged by his actions.

Time to introduce himself.

"My name is Carl and I'm from Alexandria. My dad is Rick Grimes. I believe you've met him? We're here to help Michonne figure out a way to protect our communities from Alpha." Not mom, _Alpha_ , as there was no mother/daughter bond there.

"This is my first time seeing this place and it seems pretty cool. It's easy to get lost though. Maybe you can help show me around? I bet you know all the best hiding places. I always like to find the hiding places, just in case, you know? It's good to be prepared."

More leafing through his book as he bided his time. _Come_ _on, you can do it. You're safe._

More scraping and rustling as Carl saw blonde hair peek out from behind the high back of the chair. Closing the book, he turned towards the fireplace in time to see a tall, very slender girl, close to his own age, stand up and step out from behind the chair.

As Carl stood very still, he allowed the girl to observe him uninterrupted and he knew she was seeing someone who had been hurt, who was damaged. Someone whose childhood was cut short.

Just like hers.

After a few long moments, she walked slowly towards him, her head tilted in curiosity, and then as she stopped just a few feet away, she seemed to come to a decision as she allowed a tentative smile curve her pale lips.

In a whisper thin voice, she greeted him.

"Hi Carl. I'm Lydia."

 **Michonne's Office**

As Michonne and Rick entered her office, Negan stood up from what looked like a complicated chess game he was playing against himself and Michonne raised a brow at this hidden talent. A Crime Boss who played chess? Stranger things have happened in this crazy world.

As Rick took a seat at the conference room table in the middle of her office and Michonne followed suit, Negan took center stage, as he always did.

"The old homestead is looking good, Michonne. Really good. I have a great view from this room and I see you expanded the stables and the chicken coop area. For which I'm grateful of course, since those eggs are going to keep me and my people in omelets for a long time," This said with a flashing grin sent her way as he paced through the room picking up various knick knacks, both old and new, and examining them with flair.

"Yup, it's looking great. The walls are rebuilt and stronger than ever. Brilliant idea to dig the trenches, by the way. No more of those pesky marauders to knock at your gate with a truck," Now a flirty wink. "Nope, you've thought of it all. No stone left unturned. No detail left uncovered. Even stripping your guests of their weapons was sharp thinking. You're a natural at this stuff." And with that, Negan stopped his pacing and turned to face her and Rick, holding a small marble globe in his hand, rolling it though his fingers like a magician.

Tilting her head, Michonne took in his amused gaze and shit eating grin and slowly stood up. Walking toward him, Michonne curved her mouth into an answering smile, allowing amusement to light up her gaze, her smile turning genuine when she saw Negan's eyes widen slightly in surprise at the positive attention he was receiving from her.

Fully aware of the silent man sitting at the table behind her, and most likely wondering if she had lost her mind, Michonne kept her gaze on Negan's, willing him to lock his eyes with hers.

 _What the hell is she doing_? Rick wondered as he clenched his fists in his lap, his heart beating faster with each step that brought her closer to the man he didn't trust as far as he could throw him.

Michonne finally stopped a mere foot away from Negan, lifting her face to keep her gaze on his as she held out her hand and waited for Negan to drop the marble globe into it. She loved that he was stunned into silence and had never felt as powerful as she did in this moment.

 _This is why women needed to rule the world. Men could be so very simple, couldn't they?._

Placing the globe on the table behind her, Michonne tilted her head as she smiled once again at a very quiet Negan who seemed to be having a problem regulating his breathing.

Michonne slowly lowered herself to a crouching position in front of Negan and looked up, locking her gaze with his once again. She heard the scrape of a chair behind her and knew she had to act quickly or her errant knight was going make things more complicated.

While she continued staring up at Negan, she felt stripped naked under his gaze and knew she was playing with fire but she didn't ascend to her leadership position by shying away from danger.

Slipping her hand under the cuff of his jeans, she heard the sharp intake of his breath and saw his hand slowly lift as if to caress her cheek. _Oh no you don't my friend. You don't get to touch_.

Her hand finally found what it sought out and with a flick of her wrist, Michonne removed her hand from Negan's ankle and quickly stood back up, stepping back out of the range of his hand.

And holding the six inch folding knife Negan always hid strapped to his leg.

As Negan fought to calm his breathing, he briefly closed his eyes, wanting to keep the vision of Michonne kneeling before him, her mouth mere inches from his cock, inside his head just a little while longer. Oh _fuck_ that was an image that was going to keep him warm at night for a very long time.

He should have been furious that Michonne used his lust for her as a distraction in order to disarm him but, instead, he was oddly proud of her. She used the most effective weapon at her disposal and not a drop of blood was shed. _Good girl._

Michonne smiled at him coolly, "Old habits die hard. I should have told my men to pat you down."

Negan needed another second to put his carefree mask back on but he did, because as Michonne said, old habits die hard. Curving his lips into the expected wolfish grin, Negan looked her up and down, "Trust me darling, your pat down was _far_ more pleasant. As a matter of fact, I might give you a few of my outposts as a thank you card."

"Are we ready to get started yet?" Rick's impatient growl echoed throughout the room, interrupting their exchange. Rick was infuriated at the sight of Michonne touching Negan. It was wrong in every single way possible. Her kneeling before him, regardless of the reason, just gave him another reason to want to pulverize the man. He _hated_ their familiarity and that Michonne knew he hid a knife on his boot.

Looking over at Rick, Michonne was surprised to see the anger practically leaping out of his eyes. She thought he would be happy she disarmed the man he mistrusted so badly. Instead, he looked like he was ready to dive across the table and hurt someone. Tucking the knife in her pocket, Michonne gestured for Negan to sit but he declined and chose to stand by the window instead. Michonne didn't insist, feeling generous with the man's last weapon in her possession.

"Okay, now that the sharp objects are put away, let's review what we know so far..."

Fifteen minutes later, Negan was bored by the lengthy recap of events and what they knew of the Whisperers and grew weary of watching the animated conversation between the other two leaders as they debated the merits of immediately going on the offensive with a preemptive attack versus shoring up their defenses. He hated how Michonne's face lit up and she nodded like a groupie with each suggestion Grimes made. Just because he had worked in law enforcement before didn't suddenly make him an expert in everything _now_.

Negan entertained himself throughout the conversation by inserting snide remarks here and there, ripping Rick's suggestions apart with sarcastic barbs only to play up Michonne's ideas with flattery worthy of a romance novel suitor.

Basically being himself with the hope of making Rick lose his cool and come down a few notches on the hero worship ladder in Michonne's eyes. He knew he was succeeding because Rick had stopped smiling in response to Michonne's comments five minutes ago and instead clenched his jaw to match the fists on the table.

Michonne's latest comment was the final straw.

"I love the idea of exchanging parts of our community with each other for training. My archers could teach your people and your shooters could provide training on the different types of guns you have."

 _Half of which the smug prick stole from_ _ **him**_ _._

Negan fired his last salvo.

"He couldn't even keep his _own man_ safe. How do you expect him to teach..."

 _Crash!_ In a flash, Rick's chair flew back as he vaulted across the room, pulling a hunting knife from a sheath belted under his shirt and slamming Negan against the wall, serrated knife held against his throat.

As Michonne quickly made her way to the two men locked in a violent embrace against the wall, she heard Rick's whisper echo through the room, sending chills down her spine.

"I should kill you right now. Spill your worthless blood onto this floor and get rid of you once and for all."

 _Damn, damn, damn_...Michonne ran toward the two men, her mind working frantically to come up with how to avoid a murder being committed during her very first meeting leading this alliance.

Sometimes, there wasn't time for strategy and you had to act on instinct.

Reaching the men, Michonne wedged herself between them, gently grabbing Rick's wrist and laying another hand on Negan's chest, her presence hopefully the wake-up call these two men needed.

They didn't budge.

Michonne looked up, her eyes at the level of Rick's mouth, which was parted slightly with his angry breaths, breaths she could feel on her face as she wasn't even an inch away from him. Looking higher, her heart beat fast at the malice she saw in his eyes as he stared at Negan. There was no sign of the loving father, the patient leader or the southern gentleman in that gaze. Just pure hate and the desire to take a life.

She tightened her grip on his wrist.

Swiveling her head, Michonne's gaze put her at the same level of Negan's throat and she winced as she saw the knife press into the tender skin there, forcing several drops of blood to escape. Her hand on Negan's chest revealed a steady heartbeat and she reluctantly tilted her head upward to look into his eyes, knowing what she would find.

No fear. Just the cold gaze of a man who was comfortable with violence, having lived off of it for two years.

Her own heart racing, Michonne tightened her hand around Rick's wrist and wedged herself further between the men, determined to have no more bloodshed under her watch.

"Rick, look at me."

As Rick stared into Negan's eyes and pressed the blade firmly against the thin skin of his throat, he heard Michonne's voice as if through a tunnel. Faint but determined and breaking through the rush of blood his heart was pumping through his body like a train.

" _Look at me_."

 _There_. Her voice was clear now and Rick blinked as he tore his gaze from Negan's and moved it down to look at Michonne, shocked to see that she was nestled between him and his enemy in a strange, almost intimate embrace. Now he felt her long slender fingers wrapped around his wrist, her strength willing him away from murder.

He was close enough to count the long eyelashes framing her eyes. To see the tip of her tongue dart out to moisten her full lips...Shaking his head slightly, Rick focused on the task at hand and tightened his grip on the knife.

Knowing she was running out of time, Michonne spoke softly and quickly.

"Rick, you're doing what he wants you to do. He's pushing you to lose it so that you'll walk away. _Don't let him have that power over you_. You're a better man than that. You're a leader and father with two children to keep safe. A community to protect. _Please._ Please take your control back and show him that you won't be chased away."

With each word Michonne spoke in her low, soothing tone, Rick felt his breathing calm and his heart rate slow down. Her words, her touch, her _nearness_ to him all served to remind him of something very important, something he had forgotten these past few months as he dealt with one tragedy after another.

 _He wanted to live_. He wanted his children to live and he wanted the people in his community to live.

What was it about this woman that soothed the ache in his soul? When he was near her, the ugliness of the world, the evil that was all around them, _even in the same room with them_ , went away.

All he could see was her. All he _wanted_ to see was her.

His eyes never leaving Michonne's, he took a step back from Negan and slowly brought the knife down.

He was done letting this asshole get the best of him. He had a future to fight for.

As Negan put his hand to his throat to dab at the droplets of blood pooling there, he lamented the loss of Michonne's touch as she followed Grimes' move and stepped away from their tight position together.

While he admired Michonne's ability to see his baiting for what it was, he hated the control that gave her. She knew him too well and he was quickly losing his grip on the situation, something he hadn't had to deal with in over a year.

Since the day Michonne banished him from this place.

Shaking his head with bemusement as he massaged his abused throat, Negan conceded the point of this latest skirmish to Hilltop's beautiful leader and decided he would amuse himself by playing nice for the time being. Perhaps by playing lapdog like Grimes was doing, he would gain some points back.

Holding her hand out to take Rick's knife, Michonne forced a calm smile to curve her lips when she actually wanted take a quick seat to catch her breath and slow down her heart.

 _That was too close_. She would have to keep these men separated as much as possible if this was going to work.

As Rick turned the knife over to her hilt first, Michonne nodded her thanks and then turned to watch Negan as he walked toward the table to take a seat, a thoughtful expression on his face that reassured Michonne the confrontation and its resolution had taken the lead Savior down a peg or two and he was regrouping.

 _Good. We're not toys for your amusement Negan. Remember that._

As Rick took his place at the table, Michonne marched over to the door and slid the knife out into the antechamber, confident Jesus would secure it.

Now that the predicted attempted murder was out of the way, they had a war to plan for.

 **Antechamber**

The door opened and an ivory handled knife skidded across the floor before the door closed once again. Aaron stared at the knife, recognizing it as the one Rick always carried on him and then slowly turned his head towards Jesus who, after a brief hesitation, stood up and walked over to pick the knife up and place it in a secured drawer at the other end of the room.

Aaron's eyes widened slightly at the unfazed, calm expression on Jesus' face as he returned to his seat.

After a moment, Aaron nodded, having come to a definitive conclusion about the events that just occurred in the other room.

"She's very good at what she does, isn't she?"

Jesus' lips curved with his slight smile as he looked up from the map in front of him.

"The best."

 **Michonne's Office**

Michonne had just taken her seat when Negan stood up again, concluding that he wouldn't be able to sit still as the history professor and former lawman put their smart heads together again to strategize a defense, leaving him the odd man out.

Once he had both of their attention, Negan made his case.

"I have 96 soldiers, 153 guns, with 20 additional ones that were _stolen_ and are now in _his_ armory," pointing to a silent Rick, "and I have 24 vehicles, gassed up, tuned up and ready to go. I have 14 outposts in a hundred square mile area which means my men have eyes and ears all over this countryside. In addition, I have 13 women who could kick the shit out of Walker Chow and probably half of your fancy folk back in Alexandria."

He paused to let his information sink in. While his audience was clearly annoyed, he had their attention.

"I'm asking to test out of this 'planning session' (more air quotes) and leave the strategizing to the smart people."

"Negan, you're the leader and we're meeting _now_. Decisions need to be made..."

Negan was already backing to the door, hands raised in supplication, "And good leaders know their strengths. Mine is kicking ass and taking lives, not _this_ ," as he waved at the papers and maps on the table between Rick and Michonne.

"Besides, it's probably a good idea for the Deputy and me to not spend too much time in the same room together as he _clearly_ has anger issues. I'll hunt down Samuel and send him up. He's an ex-Navy Seal who saw _real_ action in Iraq. I'm sure he'll put aside his PTSD rage for an hour and talk marching orders with you. Catch you later!"

And with that, Negan exited the room, shutting the door behind him and inviting Thomas to accompany him to find Samuel, as if the man was there as a friend and not a guard.

Michonne shook her head, confounded by Negan's behavior. He couldn't get out of there fast enough. What in the world got into him?

"Were you lovers?" Michonne swiveled her head at the quiet question from Rick, seated across from her at the table.

"What?"

"You heard me."

 _What in the world was going on with these men_? First Negan practically sprinted out of the room and now Rick was asking this ridiculous question. Michonne responded with no small amount of chill in her tone.

"I told you my _entire_ story with Negan, leaving nothing out. Negan and I were never lovers. Not then, not _ever_."

"He wanted you then, though, didn't he? He wanted you then and he wants you now so he's going to try again. That's why he's here and is the _only_ reason he agreed to this alliance. To try to get you in his bed."

 _Enough_! Michonne was _done_ with these men who thought they knew everything and who thought they had it all figured out.

Tomorrow she would send Jesus out to hunt for an _all female_ community because she was about to _lose her mind_ and needed it to get through the next month.

Standing up slowly, Michonne leaned on the table, tempering her anger as that would cede control to the infuriating man sitting so still and sure across from her.

"Negan entered this alliance because he is a savvy leader and has done the math. He gets a truce with you and gets food from me and together we will defeat a threat _none_ of us can take care of on our own. I know you hate Negan and you have your reasons, believe me, but I will not _stand_ here and allow you to insult my ability to negotiate a partnership with another community. I am _not_ a prize to be won. I am _not_ a piece of meat to be fought over. I am an intelligent, respected leader who has survived _two damn years of hell_ to help build a community _that is thriving_. And I will do _anything_ to keep _it_ and the people _in_ it safe, do you understand me?"

 _She didn't know what a prize she was_. She had no idea what a woman like her would do to a man running on fumes, who had spent months, weeks and days just existing, protecting and surviving.

She was a woman who made a man hope and think of futures and tomorrows. And, in that moment, Rick felt affinity with his sworn enemy because Negan was human after all.

 _Just like him._

Taking in a deep breath, Rick sat straight and made to right the wrong he had just committed. He couldn't tolerate another minute of Michonne's anger toward him. It made his heart ache.

"I understand and I apologize. Please sit down and hear me out." Rick buried a smile as Michonne sat in a dramatic huff, her ever present composure having left for a bit.

"You're right, Negan is a smart leader and it makes complete logical sense for him to join in an alliance with our communities. I've also seen the other side of Negan. I've seen a man who can order someone's death with a smile on his face and laugh at the grief that follows. I've seen a man who has survived by sheer ruthlessness and who makes up the rules as he goes along. He's dangerous, Michonne. I know you know that and that's why you banished him. But please don't think he's domesticated just because he's playing nice now. I think he's hoping to win you over and make his alliance with you something more."

Rick's words washed over Michonne like a wave of hot humid air, making her uncomfortable and tired at the same time. Now that she had calmed down, she had to admit there was truth behind what he said. Negan was attracted to her from the moment they met and, if she opened her eyes, she saw the signs of that attraction not waning in their year apart.

Looking across the table at her new ally, she met his intense blue gaze with her own and let the moment linger, gifting herself the uninterrupted view of his handsome, rugged face with its days' worth of scruff.

 _Oh Rick. What are we going to do?_

Finally, releasing a quiet sigh, Michonne put her leader hat back on and nodded. "Okay, I hear you. I promise to be vigilant around him and will make certain his feelings, whatever they are, don't interfere with what we're trying to accomplish." Michonne looked down at her hands, loosely clasped in front of her on the table and smiled as she added, "I'm smarter than him you know."

Rick grinned and he mirrored her position, clasping his hands on the table.

"Michonne, you're smarter than _all_ of us."

As the tension in the room subsided with their shared smiles, a shout from down the hall broke through their moment.

Jumping from their chairs, Michonne and Rick sprinted out of the room toward the directions of the shouting, Aaron and Jesus following behind them. She heard the heavy thud of Negan's boots as he ran toward the shouts as well.

As she and Rick turned the corner, they saw Peter, the man who was guarding their prisoner, standing outside of the interrogation room, a wild look in his eyes.

"He slit his own throat! He did it right in front of me!"

Michonne ran into the room to find the man called John sprawled out on the floor, in a large pool of blood, his sightless eye staring at the ceiling, a jagged piece of glass held in his blood soaked hand.

"He drank his water and smiled at me. He smiled! And, then before I knew what was happening, he broke the glass on the table and slit his throat with it while he looked at me! I couldn't get to him in time!

Michonne barely heard Jesus' reassurances to the guard and felt Negan and Rick behind her as she removed the small knife from the sheath on her belt and crouched down near John's head. Closing her eyes with a brief plea for his soul, she pushed her knife into his skull, preventing his turn.

As she stood up, she turned to face a subdued Rick and Negan as they all came to the same conclusion that Negan voiced in his own unique way.

"This Alpha bitch has got to be a monster of the highest fucking order. Even _I_ don't inspire people to kill themselves. That's hardcore shit right there."

Michonne nodded as she stared back down on the man who mutilated his own throat with broken glass rather than risk the wrath of his leader.

"Yes it is. Very hardcore."

 _How do you fight a monster who controlled the undead?_

 **A/N: Thank you SO much for reading this very long chapter. There is just SO much story to tell! Reviews are always welcome.**


	8. From a Distance

**A/N- Thank you for your support for this story. I know this is just as much a Walking Dead fanfic as a Richonne one and I appreciate your patience with me as I build up to the 'good stuff'!**

 _What separates civilized man from the barbarian? From the beast who only seeks to kill and conquer and survive? In those early days, there were communities built out of the ashes of a vanquished world. Groups of survivors who fought against their baser selves. They fought for friendship, family and for the bonds that were unique to being human._

 _Bonds formed and nourished by love._

 **The Library at Hilltop (2AV)**

 _Lydia was speaking to him! He had to keep the conversation going_. Carl forced a casual note in his voice so as to not scare the girl off. "Nice to meet you Lydia. What do you think of Hilltop so far?"

Lydia tilted her head to the side and openly stared at the bandage covering Carl's eye, not answering his polite question and instead allowing an awkward silence to invade their introduction. Carl stood still even though he was uncomfortable being examined so closely by a stranger. Just as he was about to speak again, Lydia wrapped her arms around her slender middle and responded as if reading from a script.

"Hilltop is nice. It's pretty and people leave me alone and there is a lot of food." Then, taking a step closer to Carl, she lifted one of her hands to gesture towards his face. "What happened to your eye? Did someone try to kill you?"

Carl took a subtle step back as he came to a couple quick conclusions about Alpha's daughter. She was blunt because she hadn't had many normal conversations in the last two years and murder was common in her world based on the casual way she asked about his eye. While Carl wore his damage on his face, Lydia hid hers inside and didn't hide it very well.

Carl was determined to reach out to her but didn't hold out much hope a kid his age could repair the damage her own mother had done to her. Walking over to the chairs by the fireplace, he sat down, assuming a casual, low key attitude and was happy when Lydia followed suit.

"No, no one tried to kill me. A herd of walkers broke into our community and there was panic. People were screaming, shooting guns all over the place trying to put them down and a bullet grazed my eye, damaging it so much it couldn't be saved." _Wow_ , his voice hadn't even wavered as he recounted the incident that had changed his life just over a month ago. Maybe he _was_ getting better.

Lydia sat back in her chair, clasping her hands in her lap. "Did your dad kill the person who shot you? Did he put them down for you?"

 _Jesus._ This girl needed some fresh air and a distraction from death and violence. Carl tried to think of things they could do outside, fun things, _kid_ things. He would ask Michonne about it when he saw her later. In the meantime..."The woman who shot me was the leader of our community. She was a nice lady who panicked and was trying to defend herself from the herd and shot me by accident. The walkers got her right after she shot me."

Lydia nodded and picked at the skirt of her sundress. "You're lucky, Carl. Your dad is a nice man and I bet he loves you. If that had happened to me, Alpha would have left me to get eaten."

Horrified, Carl leaned forward, his eye widening with his alarm. "How could she do that? You're just a kid and she's your _leader_ even if she doesn't act like your mother. That's awful!"

Finally, Lydia showed some real emotion as her eyes became moist with the tears she had probably been holding back for awhile.

"Alpha doesn't allow crippled or handicapped members to stay in the pack. She says that one weak member weakens us all so when someone is seriously injured or ill, they're banished. Escorted away from our camp and left to be eaten."

Thinking of all the words of encouragement his Dad had given him during his recovery and how tirelessly he had reassured Carl that he was still a very valuable part of their community, even when Carl refused to believe it himself, he was suddenly extremely grateful to be Rick Grimes' son.

Scooting to the edge of his seat, Carl stared into Lydia's watery eyes as he needed her to hear what hope sounded like from a kid her own age.

"Alpha is _wrong_. My Dad cut off the leg of our group's doctor to save him from a walker bite and less than a week later, that doctor delivered my baby sister. We lived with a man who had a knife for a hand and he killed enough of our enemies to give us a chance to survive. When the herd attacked our community last month, the _entire_ community fought them back, old, young, people who couldn't run fast but who used machetes and knives to put the walkers down. You're with people now who believe _everyone_ can contribute. Even a boy with one eye."

Carl sat back, stunned as his own words reverberated back to him. For a month, he had been angry about what fate had done to him. He had hated the world for taking away his ability to defend himself and his family. But with his speech came the belief that maybe, just maybe, he was incredibly lucky. He had cheated death and he had a father who loved him and a baby sister who worshipped him. He was still Carl Grimes, the kid who had grown up as the world ended and who was a survivor, a fighter.

Caught up in his thoughts, Carl didn't see Lydia's smile until her words drew his gaze to her once again. "I'm glad the bullet didn't kill you and I'm glad I met you. I would very much like to not be afraid all the time and I..."

Suddenly, a panicked shout echoed down the hallway and Carl shot out of his seat, his hand automatically going to the small knife sheathed at his hip. Looking over at Lydia, who had stood up with him, he held up a hand to stop her progress. "You should wait here and I'll go check it out. Close the door behind me and..."

"No! I'm going with you. I don't want to be alone if bad people are here."

Not wanting to take any more time arguing as he heard footsteps pounding down the hall, Carl waved Lydia forward to follow him as he strode quickly to the door. Pulling out his knife, Carl slowly opened the door and peered into the hallway. Seeing that it was empty, he gestured once again to Lydia and the two of them walked towards the commotion.

As they reached the room where the shout had come from, they saw Jesus consoling a man who was obviously very upset as he kept mumbling, "I couldn't stop him." over and over again. While Jesus was distracted, Carl and Lydia pushed their way into the room only to stop short as they took in the sight of Negan, Michonne and his Dad standing over a dead body lying in a large pool of blood. Carl pivoted quickly and laid a hand on Lydia's arm to stop her from moving closer but the slender girl was stronger than she looked as she threw off his attempt and walked right up to the body.

Michonne turned and her eyes widened as she spotted Lydia walking quickly to where they stood. Holding out her hand, Michonne tried to keep her voice calm but failed in the end, "Lydia! Stop, don't come any closer. You don't want to see..." but it was too late. Lydia drew even with the adults and peered down at their prisoner, her eyes at first curious and then as the seconds continued, grew despondent and ultimately resigned.

Finally, her reed thin voice broke the silence in a monotone delivery of facts as she continued to stare down at the body.

"Jackson Pruitt, 46 years old. Husband to Fiona Pruitt and father to Jackson, Jr. and Emily Pruitt. Formerly a high school Science teacher. Proficient with knives and a beginner with guns. High flight risk and must be put to the test."

Lydia looked up after her recitation to a room full of concerned gazes. Even the large scary looking man in the leather jacket looked at her like a zoo exhibit. Well, they should be concerned. She was probably crazy at this point, right? Although, if she was really crazy, would she know it? Shaking her head to refocus, Lydia looked at Michonne, the only non-scary person in the room besides Carl.

"My job was to keep our group's records. I have neat handwriting and Alpha tasked me with keeping a log of all of our members. Everything we knew about them. She liked to have the facts and her opinions documented. It made her proud to have me memorize them in case the notes were lost."

Michonne's heart broke once again for this girl and what she had been exposed to in her short life. They had only skimmed the surface with Lydia but if she pushed too hard, the girl would simply shut down. Keeping her voice low and calm, Michonne asked the question that she knew Rick and Negan were silently asking along with her. "Lydia, do you know why Jackson would choose to kill himself?"

Lydia nodded as she stared down at the slashed neck, seemingly unsurprised at the violent death. "Alpha was testing his loyalty with this scouting mission. She suspected he wanted to leave the group with his family and so she told Jackson if he came back with good information and many deaths of our enemies, she wouldn't feed his wife, 12 year old son and 8 year old daughter to the dead. I'd imagine he pretended to be brave during his questioning but had already made up his mind that if _he_ was dead, his family might be able to survive."

As Lydia's words sent varying degrees of shock waves through the room, she felt very tired and a bit like a spectacle. "I'd like to go now. Can I leave please?" Without waiting for permission, Lydia walked out of the room, the adults too caught up in their thoughts to stop her. Carl spoke up first, breaking the stunned silence.

"I think I can talk to Lydia. She seems comfortable with me. Tell me everything Jackson said during your interrogation and I'll try to see if she can help some more."

Rick looked up from the body to his son, standing tall and certain only a few feet away. Nodding his head, he threw his arm around his shoulder and led him out of the room, "Let's go get some fresh air and I'll fill you in."

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After speaking with Carl, Rick briefly met with Michonne about plans for the next couple of days. They were going to ramp up their training of each other's community members in archery, marksmanship and hand to hand combat, choosing the best of their soldiers as instructors. In addition, each community was going to fortify their defenses and put everyone on high alert. Runs were going to be limited to only the truly necessary until all of the Whisperer scouting parties were accounted for. Aaron was going to stay at Hilltop for a couple of days to finish up their mapping strategy with Jesus and then they would meet to discuss their next steps.

With only a few hours of daylight left, Rick was preparing for the trip home and just left several Hilltop residents who were packing a cart of food for him and Eugene to transport home in a borrowed truck. The food would go a long way to fortifying the strength of his people and building their morale, he thought as he headed up the porch steps on his way to a meeting with Eugene and the blacksmith.

 _Manufacturing bullets would build morale even more._

At the top of the steps, Rick stopped short as he met the amused gaze of Negan, lounging in a cushioned chair and sipping a tall glass of lemonade, looking like a man without a care in the world. As the temptation to punch his smug face in was still too strong, Rick said nothing as he headed to the front door. Just as he placed his hand on the handle and turned it...

"Don't run away, Deputy. Set a spell and have a drink with me. That's how they talk in yer neck o' the woods, ain't it? _Set_ a spell?" Then a chuckle as Negan laughed at his own joke.

Rick closed his eyes briefly as he faced the door, unwilling to allow Negan's playground tactics to get a rise out of him. The battle they were fighting was way bigger than a thug with an inflated ego. Turning around, he assumed a calm mien as he regarding Negan silently for a long minute. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas, Negan's shadow, leaning against the porch railing within eyeshot but at the other end of the large space.

 _Good_. Michonne was smart enough to still not trust Negan enough to let him roam her community unattended. There was hope for this whole alliance thing yet. Taking a seat across from Negan and pouring himself a drink, Rick acknowledged the irony of sitting not two feet away from the man who killed his best friend and playing at civility.

He had done crazier things and, before this war was over, he was sure he would do even worse.

Leaning back in his chair and taking a long sip of the cool lemonade, Rick tilted his head as he spoke. "You been out here long, Negan? All by yourself while the grownups make plans?"

Negan grinned, happy to engage Grimes in wordplay as it would help to pass the time much better than counting leaves on trees. "Just taking a well deserved break. It's hard work capturing a game changer and bringing him in for questioning, Grimes. But you wouldn't know that, being a bystander to this and all. Hey! Maybe your kid can uncover some helpful information from his nut job new girlfriend and your trip won't be totally wasted, hmmm?" Another sip of lemonade hid the teeth Rick wanted so desperately to remove with his fist.

Instead he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he quirked a small smile. "Let's talk about how you handled your _game changer_ ," Rick exaggerated his southern drawl to lull Negan into thinking he was just a redneck cop before continuing, "You had a Whisperer scout _in your custody_ , someone who could give us location, weapons intel and attack plans and what did you do? Hmm? You beat the shit out of him, tortured him and brought him to us as a man with _no_ hope and _no_ belief in any options." Rick tsked as he shook his head in mock dismay and took another long sip of lemonade, pleased at the cocky grin finally wiped from Negan's face.

"Way to go, Negan." A glass raised in a toast. "Don't worry, though, all is not lost. There are still three scouting parties out there and one of them is sure to run into my people, who will know _exactly_ what to do so it's all good."

Negan flexed his fist under the table, so tempted to break Grimes' nose and make him choke on his own blood but that would upset Michonne and doing that would put him even further back into the doghouse than he already was. His time with the Deputy was coming, but not today.

Not today.

"I'm going to miss these talks of ours. Truly I am. But duty calls. A community of over a hundred doesn't run itself you know. Nope, I need to head back and ready my people since they're the ones who are gonna save everyone's asses at go time. Why, Michonne just told me a few minutes ago how grateful she was for the Saviors and how we wouldn't be able to win this thing without them." _Ha! So predictable_. Rick's eyes glittered with anger at the casual mention of Michonne and Negan pocketed that gem of a weapon for future reference. As he stood up to tower over his prickly ally, Negan volleyed his parting shot.

"That sweet lady is having her people pack _extra_ provisions for me to bring back to The Sanctuary as a token of her appreciation. God, I love it when a woman knows how to take care of the men in her life, don't you? Well, gotta go. I want to make sure the cart isn't _too_ over packed, you know? Cracked eggs would be a crime. See ya!"

Rick stared at his hand curled around the glass of lemonade as Negan made his exit down the steps, Thomas following closely behind. Searching through the recesses of his mind for a childhood prayer, Rick closed his eyes as he recited it. _"God grant me the serenity to..."_ Standing up with a curse and cutting the prayer short, Rick went inside, needing the distraction of bullet making to take his mind off of murder.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Thomas and Jim followed behind in a cart pulling Negan's motorcycles with Samuel hitching a ride and Shiloh tethered to the back, Michonne drove the cart filled to the brim with food with Negan sitting on the perch next to her. Michonne smiled to herself as she spotted the manly man clutching the side of the high seat as they navigated over the rough trail. "First time on a cart, Negan?"

"I never took you for going Amish, sweetheart. Even if your buggy _is_ pimped out with those tractor tires."

Michonne relaxed her grip on the reins and let the horses navigate the road themselves while she leaned back against the seat. "That was Jim's idea. He figured out the tractor tires would make it over the deep ruts after we blew up the end of the road and he was right. Now we can transport materials more easily from our runs. And when your precious fossil fuel finally goes bad, you'll be knocking at my door begging for a ride."

Negan let his grip on the cart loosen as he too leaned back in his seat and shot Michonne a leering grin. "Do you even _listen_ to the words coming out of your beautiful mouth? You're making it too easy for me darlin'."

Rolling her eyes, Michonne clucked at the horses to speed them up, wanting to drop off her passenger sooner rather than later. "Give it a rest, will you Negan? You and I are never going to happen, no matter what stories you create in your head."

Negan stretched his arm along the back of the seat, tempted to curve his hand around Michonne's shoulder but then he remembered that he was going to try behaving for once to see if that got him any further. "Well my stories _are_ pretty damn entertaining, I gotta tell you, but that's okay, they'll stay in my head. I'll respect your wishes," _For now_ , he thought, "and keep it all about business."

"Good. I really believe in this alliance. We need to all work together to beat the Whisperers and, who knows? Maybe fighting on the same side will make you and Rick find common ground."

 _Oh fuck that shit._ Negan leaned forward in the cart so he could look Michonne in the eye, "Sweetheart, I don't know what happy ending you're imagining in that gorgeous head of yours but let me give you a reality check. I don't care if Grimes and I kill a _thousand_ crazies side by side while holding hands doing it, there is _no way_ we both make it out of all of this alive. This world is too damn small for the Deputy and me. He knows it and I sure as hell know it so catch up and move on. Got it?"

Michonne's hands tightened on the reins. Turning to Negan, she shook her head in response. "The world is still a big place and there aren't that many of us left to live in it. Why _wouldn't_ the smart and the strong band together for a better shot at beating this thing? Why destroy each other? It's the two of _you_ that are making no sense here. You're letting your emotions override logic and I'm not going to let up until you see reason."

Negan chuckled and sat back up to clutch the side of the cart as it made its way over the deep ruts at the end of the road. "Keep playing peacekeeper, Beautiful. If nothing else, it's entertaining and fuck knows I don't get enough of that these days."

Navigating onto the smooth asphalt of the main road, Michonne clucked her horses into a trot as they made their way to the garage where Negan had stored his truck. One way or another, she would get these two men to make nice with each other. Their alliance didn't have to end with Alpha's defeat. There was so much their three communities could accomplish if they worked _with_ each other and not against.

Parking the cart at the garage, Michonne hopped down and opened the large door to reveal the pickup truck parked inside, the motorcycle trailer unhitched and parked next to it. As her men and Samuel pulled their cart up behind hers, Michonne tilted her head in curiosity as Negan placed his hand on the latch of the hard cap covering the bed of the pickup, a big ass grin on his face.

"In all the excitement, I forgot I've got a present for you. Never let it be said I don't know the way to a woman's heart." With that, he threw the latch and popped the back door of the cap to review two large crates filled to the brim with guns.

Automatic and semiautomatic rifles, pistols, silencers and boxes and boxes of ammunition.

As Negan slid the first crate onto the edge of the truck bed for Michonne to view more easily, he rocked back on his heels like an excited boy. "Well, how'd I do, Beautiful?"

Michonne picked up one of the pistols resting on top of the pile and saw that it was clean and in good repair, just like the rest of the weapons, she was sure. Turning to Negan, she graced him with a grateful smile, a rare genuine one in their acquaintance but it was deserved. "You did great, Negan. You knew just what to bring and I thank you."

"My pleasure. Now that we're on the same side, I gotta give you a fair chance at staying alive and these guns will be much more effective on the road and battling the crazies than those bows and arrows you have."

Nodding her head, Michonne placed the pistol back in the crate and stepped back to allow her men and Samuel to exchange the guns with the food between their vehicles. "They'll give us more than a fair chance. So I guess it's official, right? We're partners in this now? You, me and..."

"Don't ruin my moment by saying _his_ name. Let's just leave it at you and me and I promise to be a good boy with the other one, okay?"

Michonne stuck her hand out in a gesture she was sure would only amuse Negan but she felt compelled to do anyway. "Deal."

Negan looked at her hand for several long moments and then, instead of shaking it like Michonne intended, he lifted it quickly to his lips where he pressed a lingering kiss on her knuckles before slowly returning her hand back to her.

Shaking her head at his foolishness, Michonne decided to be generous and not give him grief, considering what he just gave her community. As she walked backwards towards her horse, she lifted her hand in farewell. "Safe travels home Negan. I'll be in touch regarding our plan."

"I'll be counting down the hours until I hear your sweet voice." Negan responded with a final grin before heading to the driver's seat with a wave.

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Michonne let Shiloh have her head and galloped across the last clearing, feeling energized by the trade with Negan and the additional safety his guns would give her people.

Maybe, just maybe, this alliance would work out after all.

As she approached Hilltop, she slowed Shiloh down to a trot and looked up at the top of the gate to see Rick peering down at her from his vantage point next to one of her archers.

 _Well he didn't take long making himself at home, did he_? Michonne had to admit he was quite a sight standing up there and she was grateful he wasn't holding a bow as she wasn't sure her head could handle that visual without becoming completely distracted.

As the gate opened and the drawbridge lowered, Michonne couldn't stop the pleased smile from curving her lips as she rode into the courtyard. She was excited to tell Rick and Jesus about the...

"Where the hell have you been?" Rick's shouted as strode up to her, anger glittering in his eyes.

Nodding her thanks to Maddy as the woman took Shiloh's reigns and led her away, Michonne took a breath to calm herself and prevent a scene, something Rick was obviously not concerned about as he hovered close to her, his fists clenching at his side and his whole demeanor clearly agitated.

Apparently Rick had appointed himself her keeper and he needed to be set straight very quickly on the reality of her world.

Jerking her head to the dining hall located just a few feet away, Michonne walked towards the building, her ally's booted steps sounding right behind her. Once they were in the empty building, Michonne shut the door firmly behind her and turned to face Rick. She had planned to be calm but failed as soon as she looked into his face which was now clearly accusatory.

 _Oh no, Rick Grimes, you don't get to be the injured party here._

Walking up to Rick, Michonne stopped when she was close enough to hear his rapid breathing. She hoped he was nervous because he deserved to be, dammit. Looking up into his angry gaze, Michonne narrowed her eyes and buried her anger behind quiet words because her mother always told her that ladies leave the yelling to the children.

"In the hour that I was gone, did you forget where you were? Hmm?" At Rick's continued silence, Michonne took a step closer, wanting to get into his face to drive her point home.

"You are in _my_ community where _I_ am the leader. _Me_...not _you_." A quick jab to his chest with her finger was a slight indulgence on her part but it felt pretty good, especially when his eyes widened slightly in surprise. It felt _so_ good, she kept jabbing as she continued her speech, driving Rick backwards deeper into the dining hall.

"I have lived with these people for almost two years and you have been here for less than _two days_. You have _no_ right to question my actions or scold me like a teenage daughter returning home after curfew. I am their _leader_ , do you understand me? If you have a problem with me, we discuss it in _private_ , got it?"

As Michonne ended her scolding, Rick realized that his worry for her had made him act like an idiot and he was going to have to apologize immediately. He latched onto one of her accusations first, wanting to disabuse her of that notion very quickly.

"I don't think of you as a daughter."

"I would certainly hope not."

Rick put his hands on his hips and looked at the ground, waiting for the hole to open up and take him away from this error in judgment. With the floor remaining intact, he looked up again, ready to pay the piper.

"You didn't tell me you were taking Negan down to his truck. I had to find that out from Jesus when I came looking for you after my meeting with Eugene and your blacksmith. I..." another uncomfortable look at the ground as he struggled with words, "I was worried when it took you longer to come back than expected. I wanted to go look for you but Jesus told me you had a walkie and would radio if you needed help so I..." _Shit_. Rick felt warmth in his face and knew his face was turning red. So much for being the badass leader.

"...I waited on the wall so I would see you as soon as you crested the hill. You had another three minutes until I was going to steal a horse and come after you."

 _Chivalry thy name is Rick Grimes_...Michonne almost laid a hand over her heart as Rick's words and his embarrassed expression completely deflated her anger and instead warmed her from the inside out. He looked so dejected, she wanted to give him a hug but they didn't have that kind of relationship.

No, a hug was definitely out of the question. Especially in a darkened, empty room with no one to interrupt.

Shaking her head to focus on the conversation at hand, Michonne smiled up at Rick, hoping to lighten the mood. "Were you timing me? Really? My Dad used to do that..."

"Enough with the Dad references please!" Rick horrified expression brought the laughter Michonne had been squelching up to the surface and she laughed even harder when his horror turned to annoyance and the red spread from his cheeks to his pale neck.

Taking pity on Rick, Michonne held up her hand to signal the teasing would stop. When she could speak normally, she tilted her head and decided to do what she could to put her bodyguard, who was in _no_ way like her father (ha!), at ease. "I appreciate the concern and I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going. I'm not used to having a keep...um... _someone_ tracking my movements. I've been in charge for so long, it's kind of nice to have someone looking out for me."

Nodding his head, Rick ran a hand through his hair, trying to get the conversation back on track, not used to fumbling so much. There was something about this woman who made him off kilter and awkward.

He hadn't felt this awkward since asking Lori to the Junior Prom a lifetime ago. But that couldn't be what this was. This was simply him needing time to get used to his fellow warrior being a woman.

A beautiful, brilliant woman.

Flexing his fingers to pull his hair and give himself the wake-up call he desperately needed, Rick walked towards one of the tables and dropped down onto a seat. "I shouldn't have jumped down your throat. I've been in charge of my people's safety for so long, I guess I don't have an off switch."

Choosing a seat across from Rick, Michonne clasped her hands on the table as she considered what he had gone through since losing his home several months ago. The human losses he'd suffered since then and most likely before. There was still so much about this man that she had yet to learn and she'd be lying if she believed she didn't want to know everything.

"No worries. I made it back with no issues so all is well."

Still in his thoughts, Rick looked down at his hands, his fingers twitching restlessly. "I'm not the best with words. Never have been really. What does Carl call it? Oh yeah, I've got no game."

Michonne laughed and sat back in her chair, relaxing once again. "I'm not sure that's what he meant."

Rick tilted his head, his brows drawing together in confusion, "Why, what's it mean?"

"Having no game means you're awkward around women, which I'm _sure_ is not the case."

Rick's brows shot up at Michonne's words. Did she realize how close to flirting they came? And there was that damn warmth creeping into his face again. What was he, twelve for Christ's sake?

"Oh that's true too. I was lucky to meet my wife when we were kids and she didn't know any better. That's probably the only way I was able to get married."

Michonne's smile faded as she observed Rick fiddling with his wedding ring. Here was the opening she had been looking for to ask the question she'd had on her mind since meeting Judith. "What happened to her, Rick? Your wife."

Silence stretched between them for long moments as Rick looked down at his ring, flexing his fingers as memories filled his mind. Years of married life, good times and bad. Celebrations, school concerts, dinners at home and, in the end, trying to survive hell and watching their marriage crumble.

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't have asked. If it's too painful for you..."

Michonne's voice broke through the images playing through his mind and he lifted his head to meet her understanding gaze as he rested his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair.

"No, it's okay, it's not like it's a secret. She died after giving birth to Judith. We had just settled in at the prison and it was pretty bare bones as far as medical supplies went. We had a doctor with us, a veterinarian, Hershel..." Rick looked off to the side as he remembered his mentor and good friend, "But in the end it was too much for her. She had an emergency c-section with no anesthesia in an environment that wasn't sterile. Hershel was able to deliver Judith but Lori became weak from blood loss and an infection took her a day later."

"I'm so sorry."

Rick nodded and returned Michonne's sympathetic look with a small smile. "Yeah, me too. I remember feeling so helpless. There was nothing I could do. Not a damn thing. I'm just grateful I was able to tell her I loved her in the end. She and I had been at odds the whole time she was pregnant. I guess you could say we were separated at that point, as much as you can be in the world now, but she'd been in my life since we were kids and we were married for a very long time. That love doesn't just go away."

Michonne thought of Mike, the years they had together, all of the good times, the shared memories and the very special little person they had created together. She closed her eyes briefly, denying herself the luxury of tears.

"No. No it doesn't."

Rick nodded and wanted to ask about the memories reflected in her eyes but didn't think she was ready to share. Perhaps if he opened up more, Michonne would follow. He would try.

"Lori, she...well, let's just say I've never been the best communicator in the world. Lori would always ask me to _speak_ , to say what was on my mind." As Rick fiddled with his ring, he realized how loose it had become this past year.

 _It no longer fit. It no longer felt right on his finger._

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head as he continued to turn the ring around his finger, "I've tried to do better with that since she died. But I've failed more times than I've gotten it right, like just now with you, and I wonder if I'll ever be good with words."

Michonne leaned forward, needing to make her case clearly and leave no doubt. "Listen to me, Rick. This world can destroy you, can take away every piece of what you were before until you've forgotten _who_ you were, the best parts of you. Trust me, I came really close until I remembered _why_ I survived. What I was meant to do and be."

Rick looked up at Michonne's impassioned speech, more curious than ever about this woman who seemed to have it all figured out now. Where did she come from? What were her losses? His eyes bore into hers, trying to ferret out the secrets she kept so close.

Holding Rick's gaze and happy to have his full attention, Michonne continued, "I survived because I'm strong and I have abilities and knowledge and the willingness to fight and to protect." Allowing a smile to curve her lips, Michonne lowered her voice to practically a whisper, closing the distance between the two of them.

"I knew the moment I met you that you were the same, Rick. You may not be the best with words. You may not give flowery speeches or impress everyone with your wit but guess what? The world that needed that went away when we started to share it with the dead. You are a _fighter_ , a man who isn't afraid of violence and making the hard choices, the deadly choices. And, most importantly, you're a man who still remembers what is _right_. That's why we're here together right now. _You're_ the leader this world needs. The one _I_ need."

Michonne stopped herself from reaching across to grab a hold of Rick's hand but the need and desire was there and she didn't stop to analyze why before finishing her speech, needing to erase any doubts this man might have. So instead of grabbing his hand, she gifted him with a smile.

Rick's heart beat so loudly and quickly in his chest, he wouldn't be surprised if Michonne said she could hear it.

 _Michonne_. This beautiful, courageous leader, this woman who was better than his equal and someone _he_ would follow believed in him. After knowing him for days, she gave him the gift of faith that those closest to him, who had known him most of his life, had struggled to do for so long.

Overwhelmed, Rick swore to himself in that moment that he would do everything and anything to not let her down. He would fight this war with her, would even fight alongside his enemy, in order to keep their communities safe. And they would win because fate didn't put them in each other's paths only to have them die on the battleground. Not on his watch, dammit.

Nodding his head, Rick quirked a small smile and leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed and feeling nine feet tall at the moment. He was so relaxed, he would even lighten the moment so he could hear Michonne's laughter fill the space between them.

"Well, I thank you, Michonne, truly. And I'll try not to let you down."

"You won't."

Rick tilted his head, eyes narrowing as if in deep thought. "I just have one really important question and I hope you're comfortable answering it."

Michonne leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table in anticipation, "Of course, what is it?"

A small smile and then, "Do _you_ have game?"

A couple of seconds of silence as the question sunk in and then the welcome laughter as Michonne relaxed back into her chair, shaking her head. With an unabashed grin, she answered.

"None whatsoever. Not even a little bit."

Rick shook his head as he answered her grin with one of his one, his heart feeling lighter with their banter. Leaning forward, he stared straight into her beautiful eyes as his grin faded and he whispered with a low rasp.

"I find that very hard to believe."

 _Oh my._ Eyes widening, Michonne licked lips that were suddenly dry and she realized that Carl was very, very wrong.

His Dad _absolutely_ had game. More game than she was prepared for.

 _Speaking of which_..."Dad!" Carl's shout brought them both to their feet just as the boy burst through the door, slightly out of breath, an excited glimmer in his eye. "Maddy told me you guys were in here. I have to tell you something."

Walking over to Carl, Rick put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Everything okay?"

Nodding his head, Carl looked up at his Dad and Michonne, anxious to share his news. "After everything with Jackson Pruitt, Lydia and I went back to the library and talked some more. I thought about your interrogation with him and something stood out."

Michonne stepped closer to the teen, tilting her head and wondering what had Carl all wound up. "What was it?"

"Jackson talked about the circus coming to town. Well, I remembered when the Ringling Brothers circus came to King County when I was younger. Do you remember Dad?"

Rick nodded slowly and then faster as he caught up with Carl. "Yes! I do remember. The circus pulled up into town like a parade."

And then in unison, both heads nodding in tandem. " _In big trucks_."

Carl smiled. "Exactly. Circuses have big trucks to transport the animals. So I asked Lydia about it and she got super quiet and then her eyes got really big and she said that her people had collected a lot of trailers to move the walkers when they needed to."

 _Oh my God._ If they had a method to both transport _and_ control the herd, the threat was worse than Michonne originally thought. Instead of moving a few at a time, they could possibly transport hundreds as weapons of war.

Gripping Carl's shoulder, Michonne dipped her head to meet his gaze. "Carl this is very important information. Thank you so much. Seriously. Now we know exactly what we're dealing with."

Carl blushed at the praise as he nodded and then looked back at his father. "Dad, Aaron told me he's staying here until the day after tomorrow to work with Jesus. Can I stay too? Lydia seems comfortable talking to me. I think it's because I'm her age and not a threat. I bet I can learn more information from her if I have more time."

Rick felt his heart fill with both trepidation at the thought of leaving his son behind in a community they had _just_ became aware of, and pride at his son's willingness to take this new responsibility on. His son really was growing up, the little boy quickly fading away into a strong, brave young man.

A young man who could contribute. His mind made up, Rick turned to Michonne, catching her smiling with what appeared to be fondness, at his son. _She would take care of him_. He was as sure of that as he was of his next breath. However, manners compelled him to seek permission from Hilltop's leader. "What do you think, Michonne? Would you mind another guest for a couple of days?"

Grinning widely at both Grimes men, Michonne gave the only answer she possibly could, the one that came from her head _and_ her heart. "I'd be honored to have you stay, Carl, and I believe your new friendship with Lydia is going to be a huge help, so thank you."

With that matter settled, the three of them left the building to finish out the work of the day and prepare for Rick and Eugene's imminent departure.

 **Antechamber Outside of Michonne's Office**

After dealing with the aftermath of the suicide and helping Eugene and Rick pack up for their trip home, Jesus and Aaron returned to their planning session at the map covered table, both quiet and lost in their thoughts. As Jesus reviewed the highway map of Northern Virginia, his finger tracing familiar routes, he kept seeing the blood soaked body of the Whisperer, a man who was so desperate and lost, he slashed his own throat with broken glass. He couldn't imagine having that level of fear and wondered if that was how Alpha controlled so many people. Through abject fear.

Aaron stared at the map of Southern Maryland but it became blurred as his eyes lost focus and his mind went back to the horror in that small room down the hall. He was grateful his community was in an alliance with strong people as they were going to need every soldier they had to win this thing. And they were going to need their smarts most of all as the only way to beat Alpha was to out maneuver her.

Shaking his head, Aaron tried to refocus, not feeling very smart or strategic at the moment. Looking over at Jesus, he saw him staring off into space, distracted. They weren't going to get very far if they didn't move past what had just happened.

Clearing his throat, Aaron tried his hand at some dry humor, his go to coping mechanism in times of need. "So...if this is what happens on Tuesdays, what do you do for fun on Wednesdays?"

Jesus turned his gaze to Aaron, and when his words sunk in, he let out a quick laugh, leaning back in his chair, happy for the distraction. "Well Wednesdays are not for the faint of heart, that's for sure."

Crooking his finger, Jesus beckoned Aaron closer as if to share a State secret. When Aaron obliged, his eyes twinkling with amusement, Jesus continued in a whisper, "Wednesday is chicken coop cleaning day. There are screams, bruises and even a few tears from the uninitiated."

His shoulder shaking with quiet laughter, Aaron nodded his head as he leaned back once again, "I've dealt with a few chickens in my day. They can indeed be vicious creatures."

Finally feeling more himself, Jesus leaned back in his chair and tilted his head as he peered across the table at Aaron, curious about the life he had back home.

"How about Alexandria? I know you've had more excitement than you can handle so it's definitely not quiet but do you like it there?"

Aaron thought about his answer as it wasn't an easy one. "I've been there since almost the beginning. Eric..." a pause as memories washed over him, "...my partner and I lived in the D.C. area and were familiar with this large fully sustainable community being built up and we headed there once D.C. became too dangerous. It became our home."

 _Eric._ When Jesus scouted the houses that night, he only saw Aaron in his home but perhaps Eric was out on a run. Compelled to find out more, Jesus worked hard to keep his tone casual. "Does Eric help you recruit or does he have another job?"

Silence hung between them as Aaron looked down at his hands and closed his eyes for a few moments. Taking a deep breath, he opened them and met Jesus' gaze with his somber one. "Eric and I recruited together for almost a year until he died nine months ago." Aaron smiled as he looked into the distance, "Actually it will be ten months this week that he's been gone."

Leaning forward, Jesus lowered his voice to a respectful tone. "I'm so sorry. Did you lose him on a run?"

Shaking his head, Aaron twisted the two macramé bracelets circling his wrist. Bracelets he and Eric had made during their travels together in Africa and that Aaron hadn't removed since the day Eric died. "No. Every day for a year, we risked our lives out there fighting the dead and evil. _Every day_. And then, one day, while helping to repair one of the walls, Eric fell and his hand was impaled with an old nail. He died of a Tetanus infection a week later. I've since made it my mission to find medicine on every single one of my runs so we don't lose another soul to something so preventable."

 _Oh Aaron._ Nodding his head in sympathy, Jesus once again murmured his condolences as he determined that, while Aaron may be attracted to him, if his blushes were any indication, he wasn't quite ready to move onto anything more than friendship. Jesus would respect that but would make damn sure he was front row center with his hand raised when Aaron decided he was ready for something more.

In the meantime, they'd work together to figure out which way their enemy would come for them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Michonne's Office Later That Night**

Michonne leaned her head back against her chair and closed her eyes with a sigh. What a day. What a long, eventful day. She'd be grateful if tomorrow was far less eventful.

After a brief knock at the door opened her eyes, Michonne turned her head as Carl poked his head in and smiled her greeting to him.

"Hey there. Did you check in with your Dad? Everything okay?"

Carl smiled, "Yeah, everything is okay. He's still on the radio and asked to speak with you."

 _At 11:30 at night? What on earth could be so urgent?_

Michonne strode out of her office, walking down the hallway with Carl and bidding him goodnight with a hand on his shoulder as they passed the stairs. Curiosity peaked, she quickened her steps until she reached the radio in the empty communications room, dimly lit with just a lantern on the table. Dropping into the chair before the radio, she picked up the handset.

"Rick? It's Michonne. Is everything okay?"

Two seconds of silence and then Rick's gruff drawl filled the room.

"Yeah, everything's great. I just wanted to thank you."

"Thank me for what?" Now that Michonne knew there was no emergency, she relaxed in the chair.

Rick ran his thumb over the talk button on the radio handset as he considered his next words. She was a brand new ally and a fellow leader and he didn't want to come across as a schoolboy with a crush.

"I wanted to thank you for the food. It's all been inventoried and alphabetized by Olivia and if you were here, she would hug you for probably five minutes straight."

Michonne laughed and looked at the handset cradled in her hand as if she could see Rick through it. Perhaps if she closed her eyes…. _Yes, much better_. She could see his dry smile and the amused glint in his eyes perfectly.

"I'm glad it all got there okay. And I'd hug her right back. After all, this deal works both ways. I feed you and you help me fight."

Rick felt his smile grow wider as Michonne's low voice communicated their deal in more personal terms. He liked the idea of the two of them helping each other. He liked it a little bit too much, actually.

It should have made him cautious, nervous. Instead, it gave him a feeling of anticipation and excitement that he hadn't felt in….well since before the world as he knew it ended.

Returning to the conversation, he stared at the handset, willing the miles between them to disappear but content with the sound of her voice.

"The fighting part is a team effort so I think I'm getting the better half of the deal."

Michonne slid down in the chair, propping her feet up on the small table in front of her and feeling completely relaxed for the first time in a long time.

"Are we going to spend all night complimenting each other, Mr. Grimes?"

"You got anything better to do Ms. Sauveterre?"

Michonne's eyes opened and her smile disappeared into a faint gasp as Rick's southern drawl made a caress out of her French surname and just the slightest hint of flirtation came through the radio.

This taciturn, quiet man kept surprising her and she needed to keep her faculties intact or she would forget about being a leader and let her memories of being a woman consume her.

 _Oh boy…..find your grip and get it back, Michonne._

"Well, it _has_ been a long day and it's going to be another long one tomorrow so…."

Rick gripped the handset tighter as if to prevent Michonne from ending their call. He'd thought of nothing but responsibilities for the last two years and for a few brief minutes, he wanted to just enjoy a respite with a woman he admired. Was that so wrong?

Sighing, Rick admitted that timing was everything and it wasn't fair for him to keep Michonne up late after the day they'd had. He was being selfish.

One more bit of business and he'd let her go.

"You're right. I don't mean to keep you. I do have one more thank you though."

"Oh you found the strawberry rhubarb jam? Carl said that was your favorite back home in Georgia."

Rick sat up and smiled at the handset, "Well, no, I didn't see that yet but thanks for the head's up. I wanted to thank you for letting Carl stay at Hilltop. It means a lot to him. And to me."

Michonne shook her head before remembering she wasn't visible.

"I should be thanking Carl. He connected with Lydia more in a couple of hours than I've been able to do in a week. His companionship may help her heal which means a lot to me. And, if she can open up enough to share more information about her home and Alpha, we'll all benefit. So, trust me, Carl is a very welcome guest."

A few seconds of silence and Michonne pictured Rick considering his words carefully. She'd noticed that about him. He held many of his thoughts close to his chest and wasn't quick to speak.

 _Finally…_

"Carl has….well he's had a tough time of it since his injury. He's been frustrated and lashing out because he doesn't think he has value anymore now that he can't shoot as well as he used to. I think he believes he's a liability and nothing I've said or done has convinced him otherwise. Staying there and being put to use….well, it's the best thing that's happened to him in a very long time."

Michonne's guarded heart, already cracking under pressure, started to give up the fight in that moment. How does one feel so much in such a short period of time? What was it about Rick and his family that knocked down all of her walls in a matter of days? No, not even days, _hours_. Was it because they were good people? Survivors like herself? People who hadn't given up their humanity when the laws went away?

No, it was more than that. Her whole community was filled with good people, survivors. This was _more_. Her connection was immediate and real and she didn't know if could fight against it.

Or if she wanted to.

Closing her eyes against the tide of emotions filling her heart, Michonne leaned her head against the back of the chair, thinking how to respond.

"Michonne? Are you still there?"

Michonne took a breath and dove in, deciding to speak from her heart and not her head.

"I'm here. I….Rick, Carl is a very special young man. I knew that from the first moment I met him. He has value, a great deal of it and I'm going to make certain he sees it and feels it while he's here, I promise. You've done an amazing job raising him in all of this and you should be very proud of him."

 _Silence...then…_

"Thank you, I am proud of him."

Michonne curved her lips into a small smile as she pressed the button to talk.

"I'm very glad that Jesus stowed away in your truck, Rick. I haven't had a chance to tell you that. But I'm glad it was you. That he found you." _For me_. No, she couldn't voice that thought out loud but it's what she felt. Rick entering her life was more than just something for her community. It was something for her too and she was open enough with herself to realize that.

Rick stared at the radio, the urge to get into a car and erase the miles between them overcoming any sense of reason or logic.

Pressing the talk button, he closed his eyes and pictured her smiling face.

"I'm glad he found me too. We….we make a hellava good team, Michonne. A hellava good team."

"That we do, Rick Grimes. That we do."

Another few seconds of silence…

"Michonne? When Aaron brings Carl back to Alexandria in a couple days…uh…" _Get it out Grimes. Come on_. "Do you think you could come too? It uh…would mean a lot to… my people to…um… see you." Rick banged the handset on his forehead at his ridiculous request. No way would she go for it…She…

"I'd love to."

Rick lifted his head and stared at the radio as a grin lit up his face.

Smiling at the handset like a fool, Michonne pressed the talk button one final time.

"Good night Rick."

Rick ran his thumb slowly over the button, his grin relaxing into a tender smile.

"Good night Michonne."

As Rick sat in the dimly lit room holding the radio handset in his palm, he stared at the clock ticking on the counter in front of him. Thirty nine hours. He was going to work as many of those hours as he could because maybe, just maybe the time would go faster.

His head was done fighting with his heart so maybe, just maybe, he would start following it for a change and see where it took him.

 _Thirty eight hours and fifty eight minutes to go._

 **A/N: We're SO close my friends! Thanks for hanging out with this story and sticking with it. A quick note of reassurance regarding Carl and Lydia. They will NOT be following their GN story and their relationship will remain age appropriate but will hopefully remain compelling to read about! Your feedback, as always, is very welcome.**


	9. Weapons

_How does one fall in love when living to see another day is a question and not a given? How does one give their heart to another when life is so tenuous and uncertain?_

 _By knowing when it is time to lay down your weapons and remember what it means to truly be alive._

 **Hilltop (2AV)**

Michonne loved the view of Hilltop from her vantage point on the front portico first thing in the morning. She loved watching the sun rising to bathe her community and crops in a soft pink glow. Taking a seat at the small table containing her breakfast and cup of tea, Michonne leaned back and enjoyed the peace of the quiet morning as she started to plan her day.

 _Was Rick still sleeping or had his young daughter already awakened him with her cries?_

Shaking her head in bemusement, Michonne sipped her tea as she realized that Rick was the last thing she thought of before going to sleep last night and the first thing on her mind this morning. Considering their late night conversation, she wasn't surprised. She was feeling like a woman again instead of just a leader and it was both exciting and terrifying given everything else going on.

Death would always be at their door and that was a hard fact. But attraction….connection….those were rare gifts these days and Michonne was simply grateful to be reminded that that part of her didn't go away for good two years ago. It just went into a long, deep sleep and now?

Now it was morning.

Smiling at her thoughts, Michonne broke off a piece of the fresh baked bread on her plate and spread it with the butter churned just yesterday as she reviewed her schedule for the rest of the day. It was going to be a busy one so she was glad for her early start.

"Morning."

Michonne turned her head at the greeting to find Carl coming out onto the porch, a plate of food and a cup of juice in hand.

"Good morning. Well, aren't you the early riser! I never get company for breakfast."

His lips curving into a small smile, Carl sat in the chair Michonne gestured to and looked out to admire the view so very different from his home behind steel walls.

"I'm used to getting up early. Ever since Judith was born, I try to help my Dad out and let him sleep in as much as I can since he's up much later than me doing work."

Michonne's heart warmed at the thought of father and son working together to raise a baby in a very dangerous world. She wanted to hear every story, every mishap, every obstacle overcome, because their accomplishment truly was miraculous.

"You're a wonderful son, Carl, and I can tell you love your sister very much. Judith is lucky to have you."

Carl broke open a hard-boiled egg and looked down at it for several moments while considering his response. Finally, he looked up, his gaze serious for one so young. "I'm lucky to have _her_. I'll never forget my mom because there's a part of her in Judy."

 _Oh Carl_. Michonne fought back the emotion welling up behind her eyes, not wanting the boy to see her heart breaking a little for him. There were so many different paths he could have gone down, losing his mother at such a young age, as well as so many other loved ones. The fact that he found something positive in this mess of a world was amazing.

Michonne took a sip of her tea to compose herself before replying. "You're right. We live on through our children and through those who love us. Your memories of your mom keep her alive in a very special way." Suddenly, Michonne was overcome with her own memories of Andre, laughing, crying, throwing his arms around her neck in joy and when needing comfort.

Seeing the tears well up in Michonne's eyes as she looked out over the hills before them, Carl lowered his voice to a gentle tone. "You lost someone too, didn't you?"

Turning her head to view Carl through blurred vision as she blinked her tears away, Michonne nodded and gave him a watery smile. "My son, Andre. I lost him at the...beginning." Placing a hand over her heart that still ached, Michonne took a deep breath and fiddled with the fork resting on her plate. "He was three years old and the light of my life."

Their shared losses made Carl feel connected with Michonne and he wanted to give her comfort. "My mom believed..," a pause as he tried to remember the exact words she had told him at his grandfather's funeral, "She believed that heaven was a place where laughter and smiles grew wings and kept everything bad away. Whenever I miss her, I try to think of her surrounded by things that would make her happy and it makes me feel better. Maybe..." another pause as he treaded lightly with his words, "...maybe Andre is with her and they're laughing together."

Swiping at a tear, Michonne nodded, overcome with the image Carl's words painted. "I love that, Carl, thank you. Your mom sounds like a pretty special lady and I'm sure she loved you a great deal."

Carl responded with a simple nod and the two of them spent a few minutes of silence together as they ate their breakfast, lost in their thoughts and the confidences they shared with each other.

Finally, Carl looked up as he wiped his fingers with his napkin. "Does my Dad know? About your son?"

Michonne shook her head. "No, no he doesn't."

Carl nodded. "Well your secret's safe with me."

Michonne smiled, the urge to hug this special young man overwhelming her. "It's not really a secret. I just...well I guess I've just kept him to myself these past couple of years, kept him close." Michonne sat up straighter as her smile grew. "It feels good to talk about him though so maybe I'm ready to share him." Michonne dipped her head to more directly match gazes with Carl. "Thank you."

Carl returned her smile and they both finished their breakfast, their shared silence more comfortable. After taking her last sip of tea, Michonne asked Carl a question that had been nagging at her. "Can I ask you about your eye?"

Carl looked up from his plate and nodded.

"I noticed that you're still wearing a bandage but you were shot over a month ago, right?"

Another silent nod but this one had Carl looking down at his hands clasped on his lap.

Michonne leaned forward and lowered her voice to a gentle tone as she prodded. "Carl, why are you keeping your bandage on even though your injury is healed over?"

Several moments of silence passed until Carl raised his head once more and gazed at Michonne with bleak determination. "I don't want to disgust people. When the bullet destroyed my eye, it left gross scars and I don't want people to stare at me like a freak."

In that moment, Michonne was so profoundly grateful that this boy had come into her life because he was someone she could help and maybe, just maybe, he could help her too. After all, one could have scars on the inside too and hers had been raw, jagged, and a constant reminder of her loss. After just a few days of knowing the Grimes family, the pain was starting to wane.

It was her turn to help Carl deal with his pain.

Sitting back and assuming a relaxed position, Michonne kept her tone very matter of fact. "Before everything happened, I taught history at a university and my specialty was medieval warfare. Weapons and warfare to be very specific."

Just as predicted, Carl's eye lit up with curiosity but he kept his response to the one given by all teenage boys. "That's cool."

Michonne gave him a small smile as she continued. "What's really cool is I learned all about the warriors from centuries ago, a _thousand_ years ago. Warriors who used swords, knives, maces and their fists. Who fought in the mud, amongst their fallen comrades and who used their wits and strength and even just their _will to live_ to stay alive on the battle field."

She had him now. Carl was leaning forward, his arms crossed on top of the table and his expression one of anticipation and interest.

Just like her students back in the day.

"There were no nuclear weapons, no bombs at all back then. There weren't guns or cannons. Just these men, and yes, _women,_ who were trained since a very young age to defend their home, their lands and their people and who found honor on the battlefield."

Time to drive her point home.

"And do you know what the greatest, most powerful warriors all had in common? What they all brought home with them as proof of their valor, their strength and their prowess on that battlefield?"

A silent shake of the head from the riveted young man before her.

" _Scars_. Scars on their legs, their hands, their chests and, yes, their faces. Scars from axes, knives, swords, hot tar, even horse hooves. There was honor in those scars because they announced to everyone who viewed them that they were looking at their best and bravest. Those men and women were not ashamed and you shouldn't be either."

Carl swallowed and looked away towards the hills in the distance. "But my scar was caused by a freak accident, not by me fighting a battle."

Michonne laid her hand over Carl's clasped ones on the table. "Carl, don't you know? You've been fighting battles every day for _two years_. You've learned to shoot and to use a knife, an ax and _anything_ else you can find in order to keep your family safe. I bet that the day you were shot, you were fighting that herd right alongside your Dad and doing everything in your power to protect your baby sister. You're here _right now_ in order to help us gain information so that we can win a _war_. You _are_ a warrior Carl. You need to own that with every breath you take, do you understand me?"

Carl's eye widened at the vehemence behind Michonne's words but he nodded in response. Michonne softened her tone for the rest. "This is a new world, Carl, but in a way, it's a resurgence of our very old one. This is a world that _will_ leave scars and yours are simply testament to your courage and your will to live. So, leave your bandage on for as long as you need to but please know that the people who love you and know you will see your scars for what they are, okay?"

Carl looked down at his hands for several moments as he considered Michonne's words and then took a deep breath before meeting her gaze once again. This time with a small, resolute smile. "Okay."

 _Good boy. Now onto the fun stuff._

"Lydia won't be up for a few hours. How would you like some time with my archers and learn another weapon to add to your arsenal?"

The small smile turned into an excited grin. "That would be awesome."

 **Alexandria**

Rick felt energized and motivated to get started on his day. He had had a surprisingly restful night's sleep, the best one for as long as he could remember. If he were honest with himself, the sound of Michonne's voice remained on replay in his mind long after their midnight conversation, lulling him into a peaceful sleep and then greeting him at dawn along with Judith's morning cries.

As Rick carried Judith out onto the quiet front porch to greet the day, he couldn't stop a small smile from curving his lips.

 _She was going to be here tomorrow._

For the first time in a year, Rick allowed his heart to open up to possibilities, to feelings he never thought he would have again, giving him the urge to walk down the street grinning like a fool. Instead he blew a raspberry into Judith's neck as he bounced her up and down, his chuckle joining her joyful giggles.

"Morning."

Glenn's greeting from the sidewalk drew Rick's attention from his daughter and he raised his hand in response.

"Morning. What are you doing out here so early?"

As Rick sat down on the steps and bounced Judith on his knee, Glenn joined him, his fingers giving Judith a quick tickle on her ribs as he sat.

"I wanted to grab another jar of Hilltop's peach jam from the pantry before Maggie wakes up. She had some yesterday and it's now officially her favorite food. I figured it's important to keep a pregnant woman's cravings fed, right?"

Rick chuckled softly. "Right. Very important. How's Maggie feeling these days? She doing okay?"

Glenn nodded as he looked out over the quiet streets of Alexandria in the early morning light. "She's past the morning sickness stage and has gotten her energy back, which is good."

Knowing his friend well, Rick knew there was something more. "What is it?"

Dropping his head to examine his feet on the steps as he considered his answer, Glenn finally turned his gaze to Rick and then to Judith, giving her a small tired smile.

"We're both scared. We're scared about the pregnancy and what could go wrong. We're scared about the delivery..." A shared look between the two men as memories of Judith's birth washed over them. "...and most of all, we're scared about raising a child in this world. There are so many ways this can go very wrong and only one chance to get it right."

Rick considered Glenn's fears carefully and looked upon his daughter before responding. "I get that you're scared. I really do. Hell, I was terrified when Lori was pregnant with _Carl_ and that was when the world was still right. Would I be a good father? A good husband? Could I raise a child into adulthood and keep him safe and free from harm?" Memories of Carl's childhood washed through Rick and his heart felt too full in his chest with the fears he carried to this day for both of his children.

"Our children are both our greatest joy and our greatest fear. Every parent since the beginning of time has felt this and we're no different. All we can do is our absolute best, love them, guide them and do everything we can to keep them safe."

Glenn looked at Rick holding his happy, healthy daughter and nodded, knowing that his friend and his leader knew more than anyone what it was like to raise children in the world they were now in.

"You and Maggie are two of the best people I've ever known. You're smart, have a lot of love to give and you're fighters. Your baby will be a fighter too, Glenn, and he or she is going to have a whole community willing to fight for them, understand? You're not alone in this."

Glenn smiled and reached his finger out for Judith to grip and shake in her small hand. "Thank you Rick. That means a lot. And I know that's why we're preparing to fight now. It's to keep our home and all of our people safe. I want my baby to live a long life and will do everything I can to make sure that happens."

Rick nodded. "Our children are what we're doing this for. They make us _live_ , not just survive. We're more than just our weapons and what we can do with them. Children give us a future to fight for, don't they?

Glenn nodded and then both men laughed as Judith drew Glenn's finger to her mouth and tried to give it a raspberry, her failed attempt succeeding in showing Glenn just how much drool he would be dealing with in his near future.

 **Hilltop**

Excited from his morning archery lessons, Carl bounded down the hallway towards the library, looking forward to recounting his success with the bow and arrow to Lydia. As he entered the large room, he spotted her in her usual spot near the fireplace, engrossed in a book on her lap. As he approached her slowly so as to not startle her, Lydia looked up and greeted him with a smile.

"Hey."

"Hey, what are you reading?"

"Tom Sawyer. It's one of my favorites."

Carl nodded as he sat in the chair across from her. "I haven't read that one yet. Maybe I'll check it out when you're done."

Lydia simply smiled and nodded.

"Lydia can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How come you never go outside? Or even beyond this room or your room? Are you still afraid?"

Lydia looked down at her book, deep in thought and then finally she looked up at Carl, sadness dimming the light in her eyes. "I don't go outside because _outside_ is all I've been for over a year. My community isn't like this one or the one you live in. We have no walls other than rocks and trees and whatever tarps we can find. Even in the winter. I can't remember a time when I wasn't too hot or cold or wet or scorched by the sun. Our chairs are seat cushions and our beds are blankets thrown over pine needles. We get our drinking water from the same creeks we wash our bodies and clothes in and the stench of gutted dear and fish is all you can smell once you get past the rotted flesh of our masks."

 _Jesus._ Even when they spent months on the road before they found the prison, his Dad and Daryl had worked hard to secure houses for them to sleep in as much as possible. It was only during their trek from Georgia to Virginia that they found themselves sleeping outside. Carl couldn't imagine doing that as a permanent living arrangement.

"I get it. You're enjoying a real home for the first time in a long time and I don't blame you for staying inside. Maybe we can have lunch on the porch later so you can get some fresh air but still be comfortable and close to the house if you feel the need to go back in."

Lydia smiled. "That sounds nice."

"Lydia can I ask you a question? If you lived outside like that, why did people join your community or _how_ did they join? I don't get why people would want to live like that."

Lydia ran nervous fingers over the binding of her book, her eyes darting around the room as if expecting her mother to pop out of a wall somewhere. "Once Alpha had established her core group of trusted people, she issued a decree that only the weak would be allowed in. So if we came across people who were desperate, hungry, lost, who had pretty much given up hope? We welcomed them because they weren't a threat. We fed them and they were grateful to just be part of a larger group so they agreed to all of Alpha's rules. Over time, they learned to fight and defend themselves but by that time, they were believers and wouldn't use their skills against the community or against Alpha."

Interesting. So Alpha picked up the world's lost, converted them to be followers and then trained them as her soldiers. If she wasn't such a nut job, Carl would almost admire her smarts.

One more question and then he'd distract Lydia with an offer to teach her some card tricks.

"Are all of the Whisperers killers who will do anything Alpha tells them to do? Are they like the men you traveled down here with?"

Lydia cringed at the mention of the men who were willing to defile her on her mother's orders and then relaxed as she remembered that she had saved herself by killing them all with the gun her mother had taught her to shoot. That thought actually made her smile before sobering once again as she answered Carl's question. "I know every single person there and I can tell you that there are over seventy men, women and children who are too afraid to go against Alpha and just don't know how to get away. They're still lost."

Not sure how this information could help them, but excited to share it with Michonne nonetheless, Carl looked forward to his meeting with her this afternoon. Nodding his head, he picked up the deck of cards on the table next to him and started shuffling with a smile. "Wanna see some cool tricks my friend Abraham taught me?"

 **Later that day- Hilltop Dining Hall**

After a productive day finishing up their mapping strategy, Jesus and Aaron felt good enough about their progress to take the rest of the evening off. With plates of food from the community's buffet line, they sat across from each other at one of the long tables in the dining hall.

Aaron surveyed the large room, taking in the animated conversations and expressions of the people around them.

"I have to say, your community is pretty amazing. You've all built something special here."

Jesus nodded as he scooped up another forkful of roasted vegetables. "We've got a good group of people. They've all worked hard to adapt and everyone has found a way to contribute."

Aaron tilted his head as he considered Jesus' answer. "You've been here since the beginning, right?"

"Yes. I knew about Hilltop through some friends of mine so I headed here shortly after everything went south. I arrived pretty much around the same time as our former leaders, Gregory and Tom."

"And you never wanted to be a leader."

Jesus chuckled. "Oh God no. That's not for me. I'm a wanderer by nature so I wouldn't have lasted too long cooped up in here. No, I found my role pretty quickly and Gregory and Tom were grateful to have me fill it. Besides, it kept me fighting and I didn't want to lose those skills I'd spent so long building up."

"I've been meaning to ask about that. Michonne told me that you were an expert in martial arts. Karate and Taekwondo, right?"

Jesus would have loved to know how he became a topic of conversation between his matchmaking friend and the man he was very much interested in. Had Aaron asked her about him or had Michonne offered flattering intel as a topic to talk about?

"I'm not sure if expert is the right word but I've been a student of Taekwondo since I was in middle school and picked up Karate as an adult when I spent some time in Japan for my job."

"And you've got black belts in each?"

 _Oh Michonne. Did you tell him I practiced parkour as well while you were touting my virtues?_

"Yes but I'm higher ranked in Taekwondo. I worked hard for both and didn't want to lose all of that by living inside walls so that's why I'm always the first to volunteer to recruit or go on runs. Michonne likes to keep me close nowadays to help her with defenses but knows I also need to be out there from time to time."

Aaron nodded, taking all the information in and then asked a final question that he believed he already knew the answer to. "Why did you start in middle school? Why so young?"

Jesus raised his gaze from his food and looked directly at Aaron, his clear blue eyes sending a bolt of connection right through him. Enough to make his pulse race which hadn't happened in a very long time.

"I was small for my age and my neighborhood and school weren't exactly friendly to the weak so I learned how to be strong. How to use my size to my advantage. My speed. My agility. I also came out at a pretty early age which didn't win me many friends from the brainless bully crowd so..." Jesus leaned back and took a long drink of his iced tea. "I learned to be a fighter. Just in case. As I got better, the bullies caught on pretty quick and learned to leave me alone."

Aaron nodded again, impressed at this man's instinct for survival, something that had served him very well in the world they lived in now. Jesus was always armed and always prepared, even if he didn't hold a single weapon in his hand.

"I only made it to Green Belt in my Taekwondo class when everything ended. Maybe I can get a refresher from you sometime?"

Of course this handsome boy scout knew Taekwondo. Why wouldn't he? Jesus was sunk. Done. It was now a matter of _when_ , not _if_ with this man.

"You got it. We'll make a black belt out of you yet, how does that sound?"

Aaron smiled as dug into his food once again. "That sounds perfect."

 **Late at night- Alexandria**

"And then one of her head archers...Jim? He said I was a natural and gave me a bow of own with a bunch of arrows so I could practice at home!"

Rick smiled as he heard the excitement come through loud and clear from Carl over the radio as he checked with him before going to sleep. Excitement he hadn't heard from him in too long. He sounded his age, for once, and it was music to Rick's ears.

"Sounds like you had a good day."

"It was awesome. I really like it here. Everyone's cool and they're super friendly and willing to show you things." A pause and then, "Can I come back and visit whenever you do?"

Rick knew that Carl had established a bond with the girl Lydia and was sure that was part of the draw but he also wondered, based on how Carl spent fifteen minutes of their conversation going on and on about his new hero, Michonne, how much of his desire to return was due to wanting to spend more time with her?

"Of course you can. As long as the roads are safe, you can come. I'm glad you enjoyed your visit. It sounds like you were a huge help to our plans."

"Yeah, Lydia really opened up and started talking after awhile. She wrote down all the names of the good people in her community and gave us more details about their setup, where their weapons are stored, who they look to recruit and the types of people they want to get rid of. I think she was happy to get it all out in the open. I even got her to sit outside on the porch for lunch."

"You did great Carl. Seriously. Lydia's been through a lot and having a friend her age is a big deal to her. I'm happy it all worked out."

Carl's chuckle came through the radio. "Michonne said almost the same exact thing when I gave her my update. Actually a lot of what she says sounds like stuff you would say."

Smiling at Carl's words, Rick realized how much he actually missed Michonne, which, considering they had only met a few days ago, seemed strange but, in other ways, made perfect sense. They had made an immediate connection that only grew each moment they spent together.

"Well adults have a common language you know. What do you kids call it?" He paused to let the joke sink in. "Oh yeah, the language of _lame_."

A bark of laughter came through the airwaves, turning Rick's smile into a grin. "Nah Dad. You're the only one who speaks _that_ language."

And the banter continued for another few minutes before father and son said good night, both excited to see each other the next morning.

 _When Carl brought Michonne home with him to Alexandria._

Rick's hourly countdown continued and lulled him to another peaceful night's sleep.

 **The Next Morning- The Road From Hilltop**

Michonne looked out of the passenger window as the countryside sped by on the road to Alexandria. While she was somewhat tired, a severe thunderstorm having kept her awake until early morning hours, Michonne was excited for her return trip to Rick and Carl's community. She could fool herself into thinking it was because she would be getting to know her allies better or that she was bringing her blacksmith, Roger, along with her to work on the bullet making with Eugene but, if she were honest with herself, there was one reason and one reason only.

And his son was sitting next to her in the back seat, also gazing out the window as the miles between their communities disappeared behind them.

Michonne had known Rick Grimes for less than a week but it felt like they had always known each other. Always been connected somehow. Shaking her head at those silly romantic notions, she tried to focus on reality. He was her ally and the leader of a community of soldiers. He was going to help her fight an army and he was a man she both liked and respected.

That was it, _right_?

Just as their truck crested a small hill, Aaron slammed on the brakes, jolting Michonne out of her thoughts and drawing her eyes to the road before them.

Where a very large tree completely blocked the narrow road as it lay across it, the large canopy of branches sprawled out for twenty or thirty feet on either side. As Aaron put the truck in park, all four passengers instinctually put their hands on their weapons, on edge and aware of the danger of idling in the middle of an empty road.

Michonne surveyed their surroundings from her seat, taking in the dense woods that lined the road on either side, giving them no room to drive their truck around the fallen tree. Squinting her eyes, she focused on the end of the tree trunk and, seeing the sooty scorch marks around a jagged edge, realized what they were dealing with and shared her findings with the group.

"It was hit by lightening. Must have happened during the storm that rolled through here last night."

"We're about five miles from the halfway point where Abraham and Heath were going to meet us." Aaron stated from the driver seat, his head ducking and tilting to get a better look at what they were dealing with.

Rolling down her window, Michonne stuck her head out and listened while also peering into the woods right outside her door. They were empty and silent. No moans and no signs of movement anywhere. Turning to Carl, she noticed his hand on the butt of his gun and no sign of fear in his eye.

Just another day for the battle hardened teen but Michonne took nothing for granted these days.

"I'm going to take a look around. Stay in the truck, okay?" Without waiting for a response, Michonne exited the car and walked toward the fallen tree, moving directly to the end to take a closer look at the sooty area. Drawing her finger along the trunk, she came up with ash, confirming the trunk had been hit by natural causes and not man. Reassured that they were dealing with an innocent obstacle, Michonne turned to retreat back to the truck, only to find that the rest of her traveling companions had exited it and were right behind her, curiosity on their faces.

They all had to work on their listening skills. Just as she was about to scold the men and Carl, a wave of movement came from both sides of the road as moans drowned out the music of the chirping birds. In the length of several heartbeats, they were surrounded by the dead and, as Michonne drew her sword form its sheath, she remembered an important lesson from her time hunting during that first year.

 _They could go dormant and be as silent as a leaf whispering in the wind until the softest of noise or the smell of living flesh woke them up. Then there was hell to pay if you didn't have a clear path out._

Saving recriminations for later, Michonne acted on instinct and yelled to the group to get in formation, pulling Carl to stand at her left side, his back to hers. Aaron and Roger completing the circle.

"We have to get to the truck. We fight to the truck!" As she yelled the words, Michonne suppressed the feeling of dread filling her heart as she took in the crowd between her group and the relative safety of the large SUV. As she slashed and cut her way forward, Michonne realized that she would have to break away from the group by a few feet in order to give herself clearance with her sword and not risk hurting the others. Shouting for the rest to stay tight, Michonne walked forward and went on autopilot, muscle memory taking over.

 _Chop, step forward, pivot, slash, step back, kick, swing up. Keep Carl safe. He has to stay safe._

As Michonne hacked and slashed, she didn't even realize that she was clearing the crowd of dead closest to Carl's side of the circle, her one priority to keep them away from the boy. She heard gunshots pealing around her and knew that both Carl and Aaron were firing their weapons, their aim ringing true based on the amount of bodies hitting the ground to her left. Roger was doing his part with his large knife but when the guns emptied and the bodies kept coming at them from the woods, Michonne felt panic course through her entire body.

There were too many of them. There was always too many of them. As flashes of memories consumed her mind and broke her heart all over again, Michonne's body took over and went into overdrive, not allowing her losses that day long ago to stop her arms and legs from doing what they needed to do today.

 _Kill. Put down. Exterminate. Keep Carl alive. Do not lose another child._

Focusing on the bodies in front of her and closest to Carl, Michonne let her right side go blind and suddenly there was a moan directly in her ear and the smell of rotted flesh surrounding her just as she felt the cold hand brush her sword arm. Her sword worthless at this close range, Michonne wrapped her other hand around the cold grip on her arm, but it was too tight and, as the fingers started to curl upward, Michonne knew that a scratch was imminent. Refusing to think of her own mortality, all Michonne could think of was being too weak to protect Carl and that was something she absolutely would not consider. Just as she stepped back to kick the body away, it dropped to the ground and she looked over to see Carl withdrawing a bloody knife from its skull.

"No!" Three corpses hurried over to Carl as he rose from his crouched position and, with a shout, Michonne pushed him behind her and slashed, hacked and sliced until the bodies were on the ground where they belonged. She could hear Carl breathing behind her and felt his arm raising his knife.

"You stay with me Carl, do you hear me? You don't leave me!"

His back moving with his rapid breaths, Carl leaned into Michonne. "I won't leave you. I promise."

Michonne concluded in that moment that her last breath would be defending this boy. And if the last thing she saw was his safe arrival to that damn truck still fifteen feet away, she would die happy. She just had to get him there. _Somehow_. Lifting her sword high over her head, Michonne fought the losing battle, Aaron and Roger fighting alongside her, everyone deciding without words that Carl had to get to that truck.

No one relayed that message to Carl, though, and he fought right alongside them, using the butt of his gun, the heel of his boot and knife, anything and everything at his disposal to put down the dead that kept coming at them in waves.

Just as the crowd of bodies closed in around them, Michonne grabbed Carl's hand, ready to use her body as a shield to get him through. "Let's go..."

 _Bam Bam BAM!_

Bodies dropped like dominoes as gunfire echoed all around them. Whipping her head around, Michonne's eyes widened at the sight of Rick standing on top of the fallen tree trunk, his pistol firing off rounds, a feral gleam in his eye. Abraham and Heath stood next to him with their semiautomatics and in under a minute, their tomb was turned into a pile of lifeless corpses.

As the last body fell, Rick holstered his weapon and jumped off of the tree trunk, meeting Carl halfway as he ran towards him and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

"Are you okay?" He drew away to examine his son, but other than being covered in walker gore, he was uninjured. _Thank God._

"I'm fine, Dad. They didn't get me."

His arm around Carl's shoulders, he looked over to find Michonne standing with her back to them amongst the sea of walkers.

Deciding to come along for the ride with Abraham and Heath because he was tired of counting down the time until their arrival, Rick had grown even more impatient as they waited at the rendezvous point and directed Abraham to drive further down the road so they could meet up with them sooner.

The sight of the fallen tree had sent panic through Rick and as he jumped out of the truck, the loud moans on the other side made him see red and act on instinct. He will never forget the sight of Michonne preparing to pull his son through that crowd of walkers for as long as he lived.

She had known her son for a matter of days and was going to sacrifice herself to save him.

Murmuring to Carl to join the group of others who had gathered on the other side of the truck, Rick approached Michonne on quiet feet so as to not startle her. As he drew closer, he noticed her rapid breaths and her shaking hands. Drawing even with her, Rick was shocked to see a tear streaming down her cheek and, without thought or hesitation, drew her into his embrace, wanting desperately to comfort her and let her know everything was going to be okay.

As Rick's strong arms drew her towards him, Michonne let her sword drop from her hand so she could return the embrace, burying her face into his neck as a shudder ran through her and released the tears she had been holding back.

"I'm so sorry. I tried to keep him safe. I knew he needed to be safe." Her words came out in choked whispers muffled against Rick's chest as he practically rocked her back and forth in a soothing motion.

Rick's heart broke for the woman in his arms as he realized that her reaction was bigger than what she and Carl had just gone through. It had triggered memories of a loss that were now bubbling to the surface and he felt helpless against the strength of her grief.

"Shhh...It's alright now. Carl's safe. You kept him safe. He's okay now. You're okay now." Rick kept repeating the words over and over again, ignoring the glances from the rest of their group, wanting to keep Michonne safe in his arms until she was ready to leave them and move on.

As the last of her sobs subsided, Michonne let Rick's whispered reassurances wash through her and break her out of the pile of regrets and guilt and fears that she had kept locked up tight until almost losing Carl had set them free.

She hadn't lost Carl. The dead hadn't cut his young life short. He was here, unharmed. They had fought through the swarm together. That last thought brought Michonne all the way back from her dark memories and she lifted her damp face from Rick's chest, her blurred vision looking over at Carl and meeting his worried gaze. As the boy gave her a reassuring smile, Michonne sighed a deep breath, closed her eyes and upon reopening them again, returned his smile.

 _They were all okay. They had all survived. No one died today. It was a good day._

Her breaths calming, Michonne became aware of the fact that she was still wrapped in a tight embrace and, based on the fact that Rick's hand had now moved up to cup the back of her neck in a massaging motion, it didn't seem like an embrace he was looking to have her leave anytime soon.

Tilting her head back, Michonne's eyes moved slowly past Rick's full lips to meet his gaze. A gaze that quickly turned from concerned to...well she wasn't sure what to call it, but _warm_ seemed far too tepid a word to use.

Time to bring everyone back to reality.

"Thank you Rick. I...guess I lost it a little bit back there. It was a close call and it brought back memories for me. I'm so glad Carl's okay. That everyone's okay. I'm so sorry this happened."

Rick gave Michonne a quick squeeze, his words coming out in a hushed rasp for her ears only. "Don't you apologize. Not even for one second. We live with this danger every time we come out here. We all know that. Carl knows that. I saw what you were going to do and don't think I'm ever going to forget it."

Michonne stepped back a step, feeling overwhelmed with Rick's nearness and needing space to clear her head. After a moment where Rick tightened his embrace as if he was reluctant to let her go, he finally relented and dropped his arms to give her room.

"Carl and I saved _each other_ today. Many times over. He's a fighter, your son, and you have every reason to be proud of him."

Rick nodded, giving Michonne the out she was obviously looking for as it was clear she didn't want to discuss her willingness to sacrifice herself to save Carl.

"I am proud of him. And Michonne?" He waited until she was once again meeting his gaze. "Thank you."

Pulling her lips in to hide their trembling as emotion once again hit her hard, Michonne simply nodded and then bent to pick up her sword, anxious to continue their trip to Alexandria.

 **Alexandria**

An hour after being rescued by Rick and his group, Michonne stood under the spray of a hot shower, washing the gore and grime of her battle down the drain, her backpack containing a couple changes of clothes resting against the bathroom wall outside.

It had taken a concerted effort by the men to chop away enough of the branches from the top of the tree to allow for the truck to pass to the other side. Rick then directed Michonne and Carl to join him in his truck and Heath and Abraham traveled the rest of the way with Aaron and Roger.

As Michonne tilted her head further back, thoroughly enjoying the pulse of the hot water mixing in with the subtly scented soap, she smiled as she recalled how attentive Rick had been to her the rest of the trip. He had looked over at her numerous times and filled the silent moments with praise for everything she and Carl had accomplished at Hilltop as well as playfully warning her how she may get swarmed by his community as they were all dying to get to know her better.

It was as if he was afraid she was about to break and he wanted so very much to lift her up. Shutting the shower off, Michonne stepped out and dried off, quickly changing into clean clothes as she looked forward to the rest of her visit.

What Rick didn't realize and what Michonne wanted to show him as soon as possible was that she wasn't going to break. Her breakdown on the road was something that was way overdue and she now felt like she had a new lease on life. That she had come to terms with the tragedy she had suffered two years ago. She had lost her son and nothing would ever change that. She would miss him every day for the rest of her days but today?

Today a boy lived. Today they had fought together, protected each other and that gave her hope. Hope that all of the saving and protecting wouldn't have to come from her. That the young _could_ be taught to survive. Could live a long life. That hope gave her an energy and appreciation for life she hadn't felt for two very long years.

Fully dressed, Michonne left the bathroom and headed downstairs.

She was ready for the rest of her life and whatever came with it.

As Rick waited in his kitchen for Michonne to come down from her shower, he methodically cleaned his gun, trying to keep his mind off of the fact that a woman he had quickly become fascinated with was standing naked in his bathroom at the top of a very short flight of stairs.

Shaking his head, he wiped his cloth in and around the grooves of his weapon and willed his brain to settle the hell down.

"How long was I in there for?"

Rick answered without thinking, "22 minutes." As soon as the answer left his mouth, his hand stilled and he looked up to find Michonne grinning at him, her eyes lit with amusement.

Clearing his throat, he tried for the quick recovery, "Or something like that." and failed. Giving up any attempt for cool composure, Rick instead leaned back in his seat and gazed openly at Michonne as she sat down across from him. His eyes slowly moved from her beautiful face to her sculpted arms on display in the tight white tank top she wore and then continued as far as he could until the table interrupted his view. Reluctantly moving his gaze back to meet hers, he didn't apologize for his scrutiny but instead simply stated in a raspy drawl, "You look refreshed. Enjoy the shower?"

 _Well someone found their inner player during those twenty two minutes, didn't they?_

Mimicking his relaxed slouch, Michonne leaned back in her chair and held Rick's gaze even while her heart raced and a rush of heat traveled to very interesting places. Places that had been neglected for a long, long time.

Her new lease on life apparently brought with it a resurgence of need and want and the desire to do things that she thought she would never care about again.

 _Oh Sweet Mercy, this man._

If Rick continued to look at the woman across from him, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions, could he?

Moving his gaze back down to the gun he was cleaning, Rick closed the chamber and cleared his throat once again, trying to think of a safe topic and failing miserably.

"Where did Carl and Judith go?"

Of course, why didn't he think of that? Kids always served as a distraction from lustful thoughts.

"Judith missed her brother while he was gone and freaked out when she saw him so, after Carl cleaned up, he took her for a walk around town. He won't admit it, but I think he missed her just as much."

Michonne smiled as she nodded. "He's a good kid, you know. Very kind and has a sweetness about him that's a miracle considering everything. You've done a great job with him."

Rick's mouth quirked in a quick smile. "Carl and I figured this out together. It was a team effort, believe me. I lucked out by having a kid who is wise beyond his years."

Michonne nodded and then her gaze fell on the gun lying on the table between them. _Oh that gun_. She'd already had a crush on the thing but the image of Rick standing on the trunk of that tree and firing head shots with the natural grace of a gunslinger turned her crush turn into full fledged love.

She had to touch it.

"May I?" She asked as she gestured toward the gun.

Knowing that the gun wasn't loaded and was therefore safe to handle, Rick simply nodded, curious where Michonne was going with this.

As Michonne picked up the gun, the heavy weight reaffirmed what she knew all along. Those muscles of Rick's weren't just for show.

Running her fingers along the long barrel, Michonne recited her learning from long ago. ".357 Magnum Colt Python. 6" model. Popular police issue back in the day before Glocks took over." Michonne looked up and smiled at a very still and quiet Rick. "You're old school, Rick Grimes. I knew it the moment I met you. This gun here? This is an old friend isn't it?"

Rick simply swallowed and nodded silently.

Continuing her recitation of facts, Michonne's fingers caressed and moved over the gun as she talked about each part. "Well your friend is a beauty. Stainless steel finish is very practical these days as it won't corrode. The long barrel..." Her hand loosely gripped and stroked, "allows for less recoil which makes it easier to shoot than other pistols. "Oh and this? Mmm..." a purr sounded from Michonne's throat as she ran a finger tip over the hammer. "This oversized hammer? Well that allows the gun to be cocked rapidly with hardly any effort at all."

 _Jesus Christ_. Watching Michonne fondle his gun while speaking in that low sexy voice made Rick flush and made it extremely uncomfortable to sit in the chair. He found himself shifting but it did no good.

He was going to have to just ride this out.

 _Shit._ Bad, very bad choice of words.

His eyes stared in fascination as her slender, long fingers continued their journey over his weapon and he had the very unique experience of being jealous of an inanimate object. Especially an object that had saved his life more times than he could count.

That's what this woman was doing to him.

"Ah...but here is the best part of all. The part that doesn't get the attention it deserves but that makes this the perfect weapon and not just a shiny ornament." Michonne held the gun on its side with one hand and traced the trigger with the fingertip of her other hand, loving the smooth texture and shape that was unique to the Python. "This trigger is the best in the business." Looking up from her admiration of the gun, she smiled at Rick, having no idea what she was doing to his ability to think reasonably. "I bet you have no trouble firing when and where you want to, do you? It's the trigger that makes the gun and your trigger..." a gentle clearing of the throat, "I mean this _gun's_ trigger is top of the line."

 _She was trying to kill him._ She had just made love to his gun with her hands and her words and she was killing him. Filling his mind with images of walkers in order reactivate his brain, Rick finally nodded and found his words. "Yeah, that trigger is great alright. Um..." another shifting in his seat to no avail. "Where did you learn so much about the Python?"

Michonne reluctantly relinquished the gun to the table once again and leaned back in the chair, raising her eyes as she answered Rick's question. "In my senior year in college, I wrote a paper about how handguns impacted modern history and this bad boy was one of the guns I researched and wrote about. I have to say that as much as I've always been fascinated by medieval and ancient weapons, there's something to be said about handguns, especially old school weapons like this one."

With a smile, Michonne pushed the gun towards Rick. "It suits you. I'm glad you have each other."

As Rick looked at his weapon in a daze, Michonne stood up and announced she was going to clean her sword on the porch before meeting up with the residents. Once she left, Rick threw his head back and closed his eyes with a groan, images of Michonne drawing a soft cloth down the length of a sword forcing him to head upstairs to take the coldest shower of his life.

 **Alexandria Community Center**

The next several hours kept Rick and Michonne apart from one another as Rick saw to the needs of his community and Michonne spent time meeting his people and answering the endless questions they had about Hilltop and everything she and her people had built up. She had also checked in with Roger and Eugene and was thrilled to see the two men working in concert with one another to figure out an efficient process for manufacturing quality bullets. That process was a game changer and Michonne was so happy their two communities were working together to make it happen.

After numerous requests from young and old alike, most likely spurred on by tales Carl had been weaving all afternoon about her heroics on the road, Michonne had conceded and was now doing a demonstration of her Katana positions in front of a couple dozen residents in the town's community center.

While she should have felt silly putting on a show, Michonne felt a surge of pride as she moved through her different stances. She had worked hard learning how to use her sword and her mastery of her weapon had kept her safe and had helped her clear a mountainside of the dead. If these people wanted to see her in action, why not show them how the warriors of Japan fought a thousand years ago?

Her mind emptied of clutter and her body moved by memory through the stances she had learned many years ago.

 _Prime. Second. Third. Quartes._

As her arms moved over her head, to her side and in a resting position in front, her feet and hips pivoted in fluid motion and she was one with her sword. Through each movement, she explained to her rapt audience what the different positions were best used for, which were used to kill and which to defend.

 _It's a dance with her_. She's turned a weapon of war into a partner to dance with. These words raced through Rick's mind as he stood in the back of the room, grateful that he had heard about her demonstration just in time to sneak in before she started. Focused on her sword and the crowd immediately in front of her, Michonne hadn't noticed him yet and he hoped to keep it that way. He didn't want to do anything to distract her from this beautiful display of strength and grace.

With a final sweep overhead and a series of pivots with her feet, Michonne ended the demonstration by sheathing her sword without looking to loud applause and a sea of grinning faces.

Nodding her head in thanks, Michonne refrained from bowing but it came close. She was happy to have given these people a few minutes reprieve from the stresses and demands of their day and also showing them that their world didn't have to just be about guns. That a blade could be just as lethal in the right situations.

After another ten minutes of shaking hands and thanking everyone for watching, the room had finally emptied out except for one person leaning against the wall, slowly clapping his hands.

Feeling her face grow warm with the attention, Michonne pulled the sheath carrying her sword over her head and laid it down on the front row of seats.

"Enjoy the show did you?"

As Rick slowly approached Michonne from the back of the room, she bit back a sigh of appreciation. What was it about a bow legged man wearing a confident smile? How was it that Rick thought he had no game? He had more game than she knew what to do with without uttering a word.

Rick was done watching. He was done sitting back and waiting. Wondering. Wishing.

It was time to join the living again. And this woman standing before him, this beautiful brilliant woman was going to be with him when he did it.

As he stopped at the front of the room just a couple feet from Michonne, he tilted his head to the side and stated. "I just have one question about that sword."

Michonne smiled and mirrored his tilt. "And what is that?"

"Can a country boy learn how to be a Samurai?"

Michonne's eyes widened as the thought of Rick wielding her sword with anything approaching competency sent the blood rushing through her body.

Shaking her head slightly to rid her mind of that dangerous vision, Michonne picked up her sword and slowly drew it from its sheath.

"I'm not sure about Samurai, but let's see how you do with some of the basics. How does that sound?"

He would walk over hot coals to get close to her. Surely learning how to hold a sword wouldn't be that bad.

"Let's do this Sensei."

Michonne laughed as moved to stand in front of Rick. "You did not just call me that."

Rick simply shrugged and smiled.

As Michonne described the Prime position, she demonstrated it in slow motion with her back to Rick, unaware that his eyes hungrily surveyed her lithe body as it moved through the stance.

"Now it's your turn."

Rick's eyes jerked up from staring at her curvy ass as a guilty flush stole up his cheeks. Nodding his head, he accepted the sword from her carefully, respecting its lethal blade. Trying to remember her instructions through the lust clouding his brain, Rick adjusted his stance and slowly drew the long, heavy blade over his head into what he hoped was something resembling the first position.

Michonne couldn't prevent the smile from curving her lips as Rick attempted to mimic her stance and proper positioning of the sword. Sensing his discomfort, she converted her grin into a small quirk of the lips as she walked up to him to adjust his technique. Stopping mere inches away from Rick, Michonne stood on her tiptoes to reach up to the arms he was holding above his head.

"You have to cock your elbow just so and then relax your…." Michonne's instructions faded away as she realized that she could feel the rapid rise and fall of Rick's chest because her chest was pressed up against it.

 _Right…up….against…it….._

Shifting her eyes from the sword to Rick's face, she gasped softly at the heated gaze staring back at her. In a split second, she captured the image as if taking a picture from a safe distance away.

Rick holding her weapon above his head high enough so his tight brown t-shirt rode up, exposing his taut abdomen, his legs braced slight apart for balance. Michonne standing on her toes, arms above her head, and her hands gripping his muscled arms.

And, yes, there was her chest pressed intimately against his….

Her mind emptied of all thought.

"Michonne?"

Dazed and barely able to speak.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to put your sword down now."

As if she were a puppet being controlled by a master, Michonne let go of her grip and lowered her arms, her eyes still locked on Rick's.

"Yes."

As Rick slowly lowered his arms and gently laid the weapon onto the ground, his legs and feet stayed planted and by silent communication, Michonne kept hers where they were as well.

Waiting. Anticipating.

 _Wanting._

Finally, Rick stood back up, leaving him not even an inch away from Michonne, and looked upon her as she imagined warriors may have done centuries ago.

With confidence. Knowledge.

And possession.

"I'm going to kiss you now." No question. No uncertainty. Not a drop of awkwardness.

 _Oh yes please._

Michonne simply nodded and tilted her face to Rick's, ceding power to him in this moment. This wonderful, delicious moment.

Rick should have felt nervous and uncertain, but instead, as he erased the short distance between them and cupped Michonne's face, he felt such a sense of rightness, of _truth_ , that he simply let his mind sit this one out and followed what his body, heart and soul wanted. As his mouth lowered to hers, Rick caressed Michonne's soft lips with his and groaned when she let out a soft sigh, allowing him entry.

 _Mine._

 _This is good._

 _This is right._

 _Mine._

With these fleeting thoughts ricocheting through his brain, Rick tilted his head to gain better access, his tongue teasing and then invading her mouth as he pulled her even closer.

As Rick's soft lips moved over hers with a hunger that directly spoke to hers, Michonne snapped out of her daze and ran her hands up his chest to thread through the curls at the nape of his neck. How could a kiss carry the excitement of the brand new but at the same time feel like coming home and as natural as taking her next breath?

Even with Michonne's slender body pressed up against his with no daylight between them, it wasn't close enough for Rick. As he tilted his head to gain better access to her mouth, his hands moved down to grip her hips, drawing them flush with his.

Their bodies were a perfect fit as she was soft and warm where he was hard and, with a groan, Rick moved his hands from Michonne's hips to cup her ass and draw her even closer. Michonne's low moan made Rick even harder and he moved his lips from hers to travel across her high cheekbones and then her long elegant neck where he finally tasted that beautiful skin he had admired from the first moment he had met her.

Knowing they were on borrowed time and could be interrupted at any moment, Rick lifted his head with a groan and moved his hands to cup her face. Staring into Michonne's eyes, eyes that were clouded over with the lust he had put there, Rick made his desires known with a low growl.

" _Stay_. Stay here with me." A small pause as Rick swallowed his pride. Pride that had no purpose anyway when it came to this woman and what she did to him. " _Please_."

There were a hundred decisions waiting for her back home. There was a war to prepare for and a shaky alliance to keep fed with Negan. But all of that would be there in a couple of days.

Michonne was a warrior. She was a leader. But she was a woman before the fighting had started and she would be a woman when the fighting was done. So she let the woman answer.

"I'll stay."

As Michonne's whispered answer echoed around him, Rick's tired and sleeping heart woke up and he flashed a quick smile before capturing those gorgeous lips with his once again.

It was great to be alive.

 **A/N: I hope you're as excited to read about our two warriors finally acting on their attraction for each other as I was to write it. It was important to me to incorporate their weapons because, while Rick and Michonne are indeed more than their weapons, the Python and Katana are very much a part of them and kept them alive long enough to allow them to meet each other so I wanted them to have their time to shine! As always, your thoughts and comments are appreciated.**


	10. The Next Step

**A/N: This is really the length of two chapters so please pace yourselves. It takes place over two days so a good resting point would be after the first night and then you can pick it up again as it continues into the next morning. That's about the halfway point. Enjoy!**

 _Why did the old way of writing history focus so much on wars and conquerors? Sickness, destruction and human tragedy? Did the historians not know what was truly important to document? What made civilization worth building? Made the sacrifices mean something?_

 _Where are the stories about love?_

 _Our new history will right that wrong because we know the new world began when two fearless leaders put down their weapons and opened their hearts._

 _To each other._

 **Alexandria (2AV)**

"And then the bearings have to be calibrated within 1/28th of an inch which, between you and me, is taking fine tuning to the very highest of levels. Miss Michonne? Miss Michonne do you need medical assistance?"

The growing alarm in Eugene's voice snapped Michonne out of her very vivid, slightly naughty daydream starring a certain Deputy Sheriff and she forced an attentive smile on the amateur bullet manufacturer and his new best friend, Roger, her blacksmith from Hilltop.

After sharing several more searing kisses with Rick in the empty community center, they reluctantly parted ways in order to attend to the needs of the community.

So while Rick was investigating vulnerable patches of the walls surrounding Alexandria with Tobin and his construction crew, Michonne was meeting with Eugene and Roger. And trying very, very hard to pay attention to the ins and outs of making ammunition the old fashioned way.

Pasting a reassuring smile on her face, Michonne forced an enthusiastic response. "I'm fine, Eugene, just trying to keep up! I love seeing the progress the two of you are making. Truly."

Eugene looked like he wasn't buying what she was selling but manners most likely compelled him to simply give her a nod and not comment on her inattentiveness. Determined to not check out again, Michonne tucked her daydreams away but the image of Rick's lips moving over hers lingered and made the rest of her tour an uncomfortably warm one.

 **Meanwhile...**

"Even though the herd didn't breach this wall, the pressure they put on it definitely weakened the seams here and here."

Rick knew that Tobin was speaking directly to him as he gestured to the impacted portions of the east wall and he also knew that he should be nodding his head and asking questions but he just couldn't focus.

He didn't want to focus. He didn't want to lead. He didn't want to think ahead, make decisions and counsel.

He wanted to return to that darkened room, step right back into Michonne's arms and place his lips back to where they needed to be. On hers. Around hers. _Through hers_.

They had been separated for less than an hour and it was too long. Why was he discussing wall vulnerability when he could be with the woman who was consuming his every waking moment? She was _here_ , in his community, this _very_ moment and he wasn't kissing her.

That was unacceptable.

His mind made up, Rick turned to Tobin, who was looking at him curiously, most likely wondering if his leader had finally lost his mind. "Thanks for showing me. I have to head off to another meeting but I'm going to send Abraham over to help with the repairs, okay?"

"Sure, that would be great."

With that, Rick walked as fast as he could without quite making it a run. He didn't want to draw attention to himself and alarm anyone. He was already alarming himself with the level of need to be with Michonne. How and when did that happen? Shaking his head, Rick decided he'd figure all of that out later.

First things first.

Looking up from the ground, Rick's eyes widened as he spotted Michonne walking very quickly in his direction, her eyes widening when they met his. While her step briefly stuttered with her surprise, she recovered quickly and continued her fast pace until she drew up even with him, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths.

Without hesitation, Rick placed a firm, guiding hand on her elbow and with a muttered, "This way," escorted her quickly to one of the vacant houses nearby, needing to get away from prying eyes as soon as possible.

Michonne's heart raced as she allowed herself to be led by a very attractively assertive Rick, who seemed to have had the same difficulty navigating their time apart as she did. It looked like they had unfinished business...Michonne's thoughts were interrupted by the more immediate need to respond to Rick's lips moving over hers as he shut the front door behind them and positioned her against it.

With a moan, Michonne threaded her fingers through his curls and gave them a quick tug in her excitement, causing Rick to mutter a curse as his hands moved down her back to cup her ass and bring her in close. Feeling his hard length against the very part of her that craved release, Michonne rocked her hips against his as her tongue darted into his mouth.

The world fell away from Rick, all of his responsibilities, the impending war, the violence surrounding his family and friends, it all went away as his heart flooded with warmth and his body caught fire. All he could think about was the _rightness_ of Michonne in his arms and all he could feel was an almost painful need to assuage the hunger coursing through his veins.

As his hands pushed her closer against his aching cock, Rick moved his mouth from hers to tug at her earlobe and then, smiling at her soft moan, continued to her slender neck where he placed open mouthed kisses along every beautiful inch.

But with each move of his hands, with each moan and each caress of his lips against her skin, his mind finally started to find its voice.

 _This is more._

 _She's the one._

 _Don't screw it up._

Just as his body started to back up towards the couch in the living room behind them, Rick finally listened and, squelching a whimper of pain at denying his body, he lifted his head from Michonne's shoulder and opened his eyes.

To the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

Michonne's head was thrown back with her lips parted and still swollen from his attention. There was a slight sheen to her skin, put there, he was sure, by the same excitement that had made his heart want to beat out of its chest.

And, yet, he was standing up and loosening his grip instead of removing articles of clothing and making use of the couch a few short feet away.

Michonne's eyes opened the second she felt Rick's arms go slack and it took every ounce of her control not to yank them back and put them where they belonged. _Around her_.

As her gaze met Rick's, she calmed her breathing and straightened her tank top, preparing to once again speak instead of just feel.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

Rick dragged a hand through his hair and took a deep, resigned breath. "Nothing's wrong. That's just it. Everything is right. _Everything_."

"I don't understand."

Gesturing to the couch, Rick held Michonne's hand as they both sat down.

"It would be so easy to make love to you right now. It would be amazing. I know that."

Michonne smiled, "It would be. So..."

It was too soon to talk about the state of his heart so Rick settled for revealing the state of his mind. Staring down first at their clasped hands, Rick then leaned his head against the backrest of the couch and looked up at the ceiling as he confessed.

"I've been with one woman and that was my wife. I'd known her since we were kids, we started dating in high school and we got married young. That's _it_. That's the extent of my experience with women."

Michonne opened her mouth to respond and then decided Rick needed more time to get his demons out so she kept quiet but gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Tilting his head to meet Michonne's gentle gaze, Rick took a deep breath and continued. "One woman, one marriage and I _screwed that up_. My one relationship fell apart and after Lori..." a brief pause as he took another breath. "When Lori died, I resigned myself to living the rest of my days alone."

"Me too."

Rick's brows lowered at Michonne' quiet proclamation and he looked over at her questioningly.

"I'd been with my boyfriend for ten years before losing him at the beginning of all this. I figured that was it. I'd be alone until the end and, frankly, I was okay with that."

Rick sat up, grateful for the glimpse into Michonne's past but compelled to make his point clear. "But we're not alone are we? I don't know if it's fate or what but we've found each other and I don't want to screw this up. It's too... _you're_ too important. "

Michonne sat up to mirror Rick's position, holding his gaze. "I get it Rick. I truly do. Sex is easy but the rest of it? That's the hard stuff and it takes work and time."

Rick swallowed and nodded, hating the word _time_ because _now_ was much more appealing to him.

"I want the 'rest of it', Michonne. I know it's crazy because we've known each other for less than a week but I know what I want and that's it."

Michonne's heart beat fast but it beat true as this man pretty much declared himself to her in his endearing way.

"Well then, let's do it. Let's figure it out together, okay? We've already figured out the war part, right? Now we just have to figure out the lo..." a quiet clearing of the throat..."the _rest_ of it."

Rick grinned at Michonne's verbal stumble. "Right."

After several long moments of grinning foolishly at each other like two teenagers, Rick stood up and held his hand to pull Michonne off the couch. Holding both of her hands in his, he cleared his throat and peering up at her from under his lashes, asked in a low drawl, "Michonne, would you do me the honor of meeting for breakfast tomorrow?"

Considering she was a guest at his house, Michonne grinned at his romantic silliness but nodded her head and played along. "I would love to, Rick. What time should I meet you?"

"Is 7 am good?"

Her grin widened. "Perfect."

A squeeze of her hands and then. "And uh...how about lunch? Are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

Michonne pulled her lips in to assume a straight face, even as her heart filled with happiness and simply nodded.

Rick returned the nod. "Excellent. Well, we should get going. We have to get ready for our _first_ date."

"First date?"

"Yup. Glenn and Maggie invited us to their house for dinner. So, I guess that's really a double date, huh?"

 _Oh this man_. He was adorable. What was she going to do with him? "Sounds perfect. I can't wait."

As Rick escorted Michonne to the door, his heart feeling lighter than it had for as long as he could remember, he couldn't resist one more. "Oh and Michonne? How about dinner tomorrow? We'd be chaperoned by a teenager and a baby so I'm not sure if you'd..."

Leaning her head on Rick's shoulder, Michonne hugged his arm because he really was too much. "I'd love to."

Tilting his head down to rest on hers, Rick whispered, "Good" as they left the house together, anticipation replacing the passion they had entered with.

 **The Sanctuary**

Life was pretty fucking great these days. Nothing like impending war to get the juices flowing, Negan chuckled to himself as he hung his jacket on the coat rack in the corner of his room and poured fifty year old Scotch into a glass. Walking over to the floor to ceiling window at the end of his room, he looked out at the activity in courtyard below.

 _Busy worker bees earning their keep. All is well. All is very fucking well._

Guns were being cleaned and ammo packed up for transport to the outposts. The fences surrounding the community were being fortified in preparation for an attack and his mechanics were working diligently to tune up their fleet of cars and trucks in the event they had to haul ass to attack or to escape.

His home was a well oiled machine where everyone knew their place and everyone had a job to do. Those who didn't want to work or couldn't pull their weight got the shit kicked out of them and found themselves dumped off at the most remote crossroads with no provisions.

Fear was the short cut efficient leaders like himself used in the place of democracy.

Fuck democracy. It stopped being relevant when soldiers and politicians became food for corpses and assholes like him rose to the top.

And the view from the top looked pretty fucking awesome. Grinning down at his minions, Negan wondered what Michonne was doing right now. Was she showing her farmers how to use all those guns he gifted her? Was she thinking of him as she showed them how to load and unload the ammo? When she rubbed the barrel down with some oil? Slowly, back and forth...and back and forth...

Negan closed his eyes as he leaned against the window frame and indulged himself with some very fine images for a few minutes more until he had to adjust himself as a result.

"Wilson!"

The pasty faced man who stood in wait outside his door poked his head in. "Yeah Boss?"

Negan closed his eyes in frustration at the greeting. _Worse than training a brain damaged mongrel_. Through gritted teeth, he replied. " _Yes, Sir_. It's not that hard Wilson. Now repeat it."

Wilson stood straight and swallowed hard then responded in a voice that was more shout then the controlled tone a well trained servant would employ. "Yes SIR!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Negan decided to knock some class into his butler- in-training some other day. He had more urgent needs to attend to.

"Bring Sherry to me. _Now_."

"Yes SIR!" and then the loud bang of the door closing behind him.

Just for that, Negan was going to force Wilson to speak in an English accent for a month to earn his food. Scrawny bastard wasn't good for anything else so he better start owning this Jeeves shit or he was going to find himself on the corner of West Boondocks and East Bumfuck real damn soon.

Throwing the Scotch back and enjoying the burn of it down his throat, Negan removed his boots and lounged on his king sized bed, adjusting himself once again as images of Michonne performing tasks of all kinds swam before him.

Where the hell was Sherry? He had an edge to take off and she was just the one to do it.

 **Alexandria**

"And there I was, tooling around walker infested streets of Atlanta, car alarm blaring, and all I could think of was, 'I've know this guy for like an hour. What the _hell_ am I doing?' But I gotta tell you, that ride home? Hitting 90, 100 miles per hour? One of the highlights of those early days. So, Rick? I thank you."

Amid chuckles and shaking heads at the dinner table, Rick poured Michonne another glass of wine before topping his off and responding to Glenn. "Well, it was the least I could do after you saved my life and all."

Michonne leaned back in her chair as she sipped her wine, thoroughly enjoying all of the stories the two men shared of the early days. It was amazing how much fate had played a part in all of their lives. If Glenn hadn't been the one to rescue Rick that day, he may very well have never met up with his family again. And if that hadn't happened, who knows what path Rick would have taken?

And she would very likely have never met him.

Burying the urge to personally thank Glenn for his actions that day, Michonne turned to Maggie, who was seated across the table sipping her ice water, her hand resting on her slightly rounded belly.

"How did you and Glenn meet?"

Maggie smiled as she turned to Glenn and reached out for his hand, love lighting up her pretty face. "We met in the woods when I went to pick up Lori after Carl was hurt."

Glenn shook his head. "That's the worst version of our first meeting ever. Let _me_ tell it. Andrea, a member of our group, was being attacked by a walker and we were too far away to help her when out of nowhere, this horse comes barreling through and 'WHACK', this gorgeous girl smashes the walker's head with a bat and saves Andrea's life. And before I could even recover from _that_ sight, that same girl starts asking for Lori and starts giving out orders and telling us all what to do. She was amazing and I'm pretty sure I was done for from that moment on." Lifting Maggie's hand, Glenn kissed her palm as he smiled at her.

Maggie smiled back and then turned to Michonne to add her two cents. "Well, my heart took _much_ longer to be won. Why, it must have been at least three or four days..." With that another round of laughter sounded.

Michonne felt Rick's hand close around hers and squeeze it as it rested under the table on her lap and she looked over to find him smiling at her, his eyes lit with warmth and she realized that their hosts were proof positive that it was very possible to find love in this new world and to find it _very_ quickly.

Taking another sip of her wine, Michonne returned the squeeze and then continued to prompt everyone for more stories, hungry to learn everything she could about the man who had turned her world upside down.

 **The Sanctuary**

The creak of the door jostled Negan awake and he was surprised to have been caught snoozing. Looking over at the clock on his nightstand, he saw that over an hour had gone by since he had sent Wilson to find Sherry. Looking towards the door to find his favored wife quietly shutting it behind her, Negan raised a brow.

"I know Wilson isn't the sharpest knife but even _he_ shouldn't take an hour to hunt you down. Where the fuck were you?"

Sherry stood with her back to Negan for several interesting seconds and then took a, what looked to be fortifying, breath before turning around and answering, her gaze meeting his head on. "I was doing a sweep of the building, making sure the girls did their weekly cleaning to your satisfaction. I think it was just a matter of him finally catching up with me, that's all. Sorry for the delay."

Negan sat up and placed his feet on the floor next to the bed, his dark gaze staying on Sherry's. Something wasn't adding up. Sherry stood straight and tall and her gaze met his without hesitation but her hands... Ah yes, there it was. The dead giveaway. Her hands were shaking as they fidgeted with her jewelry and hair. He'd noticed that the last few times he'd summoned her. It was as if she was putting on a brave front for him.

The only reason people put on a front was when they were hiding something. _What are you hiding Sherry? Hmm?_

Standing up, Negan slowly stalked towards his wife, his eyes never leaving hers. While the smile curving her lips grew as he neared, her eyes darted around the room for a brief second before fastening on his once again. Oh yeah, something was definitely up.

Passing a hand over her hair to smooth it down, Negan kept an affable smile on his face as he spoke. "Sherry sweetheart, you're my number one. You like being number one don't you?" A silent nod was his response as well as a slight fissure in her cheerful facade. "Yeah, number one gets you the best food, the best clothes, hell even your own goddamned servant to wash those clothes. It's a pretty sweet set up if I do say so myself. And let's not forget the most important part." Now Negan bent to whisper in her ear, wanting to get his point across very clearly.

"You're off those _very_ scary roads, tucked away behind fences and alllll set to live a long, comfortable life."

Now Negan felt the trembling travel from her hands to the rest of her body as he leaned into her.

 _Oh Sherry, my love, what have you done?_

"I'm very grateful Negan, you know that." The words were spoken clearly and without hesitation but the trembling continued.

Negan nodded and backed away, once again sitting on the bed. "Oh sure, I know that. I know you would have been dead twenty times over if I hadn't scooped you up last year so of _course_ you're grateful. Just checking to see if you actually _remembered_ because the hour wait, Sherry? Not cool, baby, _so_ not cool."

Sherry nodded and clasped her hands, as if to still their trembling. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Negan's smile didn't make it anywhere close to his eyes. "No baby, it won't. Now come over here and make my annoyance go away, hmmm?"

Sherry bit her lip and looked down at the floor for a moment before once again meeting his gaze. "I've got my period Negan and I know how you feel about that."

And with that admission, Sherry sealed her fate. As anger coursed through his veins, Negan presented a relaxed facade, even going so far as to lean back on his hands as he tilted his head and continued to smile at his wife.

"Yeah, the red devil has no place in my bedroom. Thanks for the warning."

Sherry approached the bed, her eyes on the fly of his jeans. "I could still..."

"Nah, not in the mood for that. Go on now and take the rest of the day off. Send Cindy up here in about ten minutes, okay?"

She didn't even hide the relief in her eyes as she nodded and, with a muttered 'thank you' hurried out of the room.

Negan closed his eyes and breathed deep, calming the rage that sought escape. His idiot wife, his faithless, lying wife didn't even have the brains to remember that she had served up the same feeble excuse _not even a week ago_. And now that he thought about it, she had probably had her 'period' six or so times in the past couple of months. Maybe the poor, poor thing was dying...

"Wilson!"

The door immediately opened. "Yes Sir!"

As Negan pulled his boots back on, he gave his command. "Find Stevie and bring him to me. And Wilson? If you're not back in five minutes, I'm feeding your balls to my dog, got it?"

A swallow accompanied wide eyes as Wilson ran out on his errand.

Four minutes later, Negan gave a very special assignment to Stevie, one of his most competent men and one of the very few he actually trusted.

And a few minutes after that, he was finally given the treatment he deserved by his enthusiastic wife #3.

 _It was about fucking time._

 **Alexandria - Later that night**

As Michonne sat down before the radio, she allowed a large smile to curve her lips. Today had been something else and she felt almost giddy. Like a teenage girl who wanted to hug a pillow as she gossiped with her best friend about the guy she liked.

Shaking her head at her silly thoughts, Michonne twisted the knob of the radio and pushed the button to talk.

"Jesus are you there? Over."

"I'm here. All is well."

Michonne smiled, reassured that her community was safe. "Same here. Fill me in."

And with that, Jesus gave Michonne his update, knowing that she would want information on the crops, the building of the new wind turbine, training with the new weapons and everyone's state of mind. Michonne was a very hands on leader, caring not only about everyone's capabilities but also how they were _doing_ and how they felt about what was going on. She had only been gone for a day and yet she grilled him about minutiae like how a married couple was coping with the wife's illness or how a brewing conflict was settled between two of their guards.

Jesus finally cried Uncle. "Michonne, enough. Relax, will you? We're all doing fine, okay?"

Michonne took a deep breath and leaned back into the chair, heeding her friend's plea. "You're right, I have to relax and I have been, trust me. One more question and then I'll stop. How's Lydia doing?"

"Quiet as usual but she hung out on the porch a lot which is good. Carl's call to her earlier really lifted her spirits. I think she misses him. I introduced her to Megan Callery to see if they would hit it off since she's only a year or so older than Lydia. Megan tried but Lydia just shut down. I think it's going to take her awhile to be comfortable around other kids her age. Other than Carl that is."

And Michonne was positive that Lydia had allowed Carl in because of his injury at first. She had seen him as damaged goods just like her which had opened her up to the connection. Fortunately, Carl was able to nourish that connection with his intelligence and intuition. Hopefully in time, she would make more friends but, for now, at least she was safe and getting some much needed rest and gaining her strength back.

"So tell me about your day. Did you add more groupies to your fan club?" Jesus asked, his dry tone coming through loud and clear.

Michonne laughed as she pushed the talk button. "Stop. You give me way too much credit. I'm getting to know folks here and they're getting to know me. So far so good but I still have a few to win over so I'm not kicking back yet."

"I didn't think you would. So what did you do?"

For the next ten minutes, Jesus sat back, his small smile growing into a grin as Michonne waxed poetic about Alexandria, their solar power and cisterns, hot showers, the trained sentries and the bullet making operation.

And every other word was _Rick_.

Jesus didn't think she even realized how often she referenced him because if she did, she most likely would have censored herself. For a woman who was generally reserved, she was positively gushing and Jesus couldn't wait for her to catch her breath so he could respond.

"...and then at the end of the community meeting, Rick stood up to thank everyone for their hard work and you could hear a pin drop. All eyes and ears were on him, it was amazing. Just amazing."

Silence.

Jesus pushed the talk button and replied in a quiet tone. "Are you done?"

Michonne tilted her head, puzzled at the question. "Yeeeess..."

Another pause and then, "You like him."

Michonne felt her cheeks warm. Over twenty miles away and Jesus could still read her like a book.

"I do. I like him a lot."

"I'm glad. I'm happy for you Michonne. Rick's a good man and I've seen the way he looks at you so I'm sure the feeling is more than mutual."

Michonne grinned at the handset and wished she had a glass of wine to sip. "He kissed me today...um...more than once... and then said he wanted to slow down and do this right. I...uh..I'm pretty sure he's _courting_ me."

Jesus' grin came through in his voice. "Oh God, seriously? I just may be a bit in love with him myself. Only a few humans left in this world and you find yourself a _suitor_. I'm jealous."

Michonne's cheeks warmed at the mention of love. It was too soon to call it that but it was still awfully nice to think about. Wanting to pay it forward with her friend, Michonne pressed the talk button again.

"Speaking of awesome men, I spent quite a bit of time with Aaron today and your name came up more than once."

Jesus leaned forward at the mention of Aaron's name and then reality tempered his reaction. "Don't even go there my friend. I see what you're doing and it's no good. He's still grieving for his partner who died last year."

Michonne considered that fact for a moment before replying. "I didn't realize that. Okay I'll back off but let me leave you with this thought before saying goodbye. He enjoyed working with you, thinks you're brilliant and he blushed when he mentioned you were going to give him martial arts training. So..."

A small smile curved Jesus' lips as he made a mental note to schedule that training as soon as possible. "Thanks for the info. I'll take it under advisement."

A soft chuckle and then, "You do that. Talk to you tomorrow."

"See ya. Be good."

After disconnecting her call with Jesus, Michonne made her way back to Rick's house and, as she entered the door, noted that Carl was alone with Judith in the living room. Smiling, she removed the sword from her shoulder and laid it down on the table away from Judith's reach.

"Hey there, where's your dad?"

Carl returned her smile as he turned the page of the picture book for Judith. "He took the evening watch at the west gate and his shift ends in a few hours."

 _Interesting_. Not knowing what to make of Rick's absence, Michonne kept her thoughts to herself as she sat in the chair across from Carl and Judith and gestured for Carl to continue his bedtime routine with his sister. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, Michonne let the quietly read words wash over her as she reflected on the day.

And what a day it was. It started out with a near miss with death and ended up with her _dating_ her ally and fellow leader.

Now _that's_ a day.

Smiling, Michonne opened her eyes just in time to see Carl adjust his now sleeping sister in his arms, preparing her for the trip to her crib, and Michonne sighed with contentment. Oh she could get used to this, _very_ used to it.

After standing and securing Judith in his arms, Carl looked over at Michonne and whispered. " _Final Fantasy_ when I come down?"

Grinning at his reference to the PS3 game he had introduced her to earlier, Michonne nodded, "You're on."

Returning her grin, Carl cupped Judith's head and murmured that he'd be right down.

Leaning back against the couch once again, Michonne looked upwards and sent thanks to whoever was still listening.

After two hours of intense and very competitive video gaming, Michonne finally gave in and declared Carl the winner, then pleaded exhaustion and exchanged good nights with the teenager. Entering her room for the first time that evening, Michonne spied a handwritten note on her pillow. As she read the words, she shook her head in wonder.

 _Michonne,_

 _I'm trying to be good so I removed myself from temptation. I'm a very weak man when it comes to you. You should know that about me. I'll see you at breakfast._

 _Yours,_

 _Rick_

Tucking the note in a zippered pocket of her backpack, Michonne undressed and pulled on the t-shirt Rick had given her to wear for pajamas. She loved the feeling of the cotton against her skin, especially knowing that it had also been on his. Shaking her head at her musings, Michonne climbed into bed, knowing the sooner she went to sleep, the sooner it would be breakfast time.

The next morning, Michonne was greeted by the high pitched wails of a very unhappy toddler as she left her bedroom, dressed, freshly showered and looking forward to her day. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, the sight before her made her stifle a snort of laughter.

As Rick wove small pieces of toast in the air, he accompanied the motion with propeller and engine sounds while Carl stood behind him making funny faces. All while Judith whimpered, cried and yelled from her highchair. The baby's cries brought back a flash of memories of Andre at the same age and Michonne was relieved to see that she could remember and not fall apart. She was making progress.

As Michonne approached the kitchen table, Rick looked over at her with apology all over his face and she simply shook her head, making it clear apologies weren't needed when there was a little one who was unhappy.

Pulling up a chair next to Rick, Michonne took a look at Judith, at her red, damp face and then at the broken up pieces of jam covered toast that were partly left on the tray and partly thrown to the floor. Acting on a hunch, Michonne peered closer at Judith as she continued to wail with her mouth wide open and, seeing what she expected, nodded her head and went to the refrigerator. After grabbing a container of applesauce, Michonne washed her hands at the sink and returned to the chair. By this time, both Grimes men had stopped their antics and were watching her, hope springing eternal in their matching blue eyes.

Even Judith was quieting down.

Bending over so her eyes were even with Judith, Michonne gave her a reassuring smile and in a low, soothing tone began to speak to her. "What's the matter baby girl? You got owwies don't you? Hmm?" And with that, slowly brought her newly washed finger to Judith's mouth and gently tapped her little lips until they popped open. As Michonne rubbed her finger along the red gums in the front of her mouth, Judith gave a shuddering breath as if to say, "Finally!" and Michonne continued to croon nonsense to her, calming the baby even further.

After a minute or so of massaging Judith's gums, Michonne dipped a spoon into the chilled applesauce and fed it to a now compliant young toddler, who gobbled it up with a slurp. Michonne rewarded her with a grin.

"That's my girl. It feels good, doesn't it? Poor sweetie, you just needed something soft and cool on those hurting gums, didn't you?" Judith giggled as she tossed the loathed crunchy toast to the floor and grabbed Michonne's hand to help her feeding go faster.

Rick propped his head in his hand and shook it. "She's teething. _Of course_. I should've figured that out. What an idiot."

Not breaking eye contact with Judith and keeping the encouraging smile on her face, Michonne addressed Rick. "The last time you dealt with a teething baby was well over a decade ago. I think this beautiful young lady will cut you some slack. Just keep offering her soft foods and massage her gums when they flare up and she'll be just fine soon enough."

As Rick watched Michonne handle his daughter as if it were second nature, all of the pieces began to fall into place and he wanted very much to talk to her. He wanted to know everything and, if what he suspected was true, he wanted to help her bear the grief if he could.

Turning to Carl, Rick asked him to take over feeding Judith while he had a word with Michonne out on the porch. After giving him a curious look, Michonne handed the spoon to Carl and with one last smile to Judith followed Rick out the door.

Closing the door behind Michonne, Rick drew her into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Loving her gasp of surprise and the yielding of her mouth under his, Rick indulged for a few more moments and then pulled away to meet her gaze.

"Good morning."

Michonne smiled at the serious greeting. "Good morning to you."

Releasing her from his arms, Rick gestured to the cushioned glider next to them and waited until they were both seated before continuing.

"Thank you for rescuing my daughter from negligent parenting. You definitely earned your hero status this morning."

Michonne laughed and moved her foot on the floor to start the glider on a slow rocking motion.

"It was my pleasure. I'm glad I was here to help out."

Turning to face Michonne more directly, Rick placed his arm along the back of the glider, his hand lightly caressing the back of her shoulder as he needed the connection for the upcoming conversation.

"Michonne?" Rick's questioning tone pulled Michonne's gaze from the quiet street before them to Rick's eyes. Eyes that now looked at her with compassion, which made her heart beat faster. But not being one to avoid difficulties, she responded.

"Yes?"

The caressing of her shoulder stopped but his touch remained. "You're a mother, aren't you?"

Michonne closed her eyes as a bittersweet smile curved her lips. He referred to her maternal state in the present tense because, as a parent, he knew that a mother didn't cease being one when her child died. Her eyes remaining closed, Michonne nodded and then let out the breath she had been holding in when she felt Rick's strong arms wrap around her and pull her in. Surrounded by his warmth, Michonne was given the strength to continue.

While she had already spoken about Andre with Carl, there was something about sharing his story with another parent that made it more real, more visceral. She knew Rick would better understand what she had gone through and that he would imagine himself in her place and she knew that he would give her whatever she needed to move on.

Armed with that knowledge, Michonne told Rick everything. She told him about Andre as the jubilant, larger than life little boy who had been the center of her world. She told him about his personality, his likes and dislikes, his infectious joy and his love for bunny rabbits. She felt Rick's soft chuckles along her back as she remained in his embrace and she felt his head resting on hers as he patiently listened to her stories.

And she told him about the day her world ended. The pain. The anger. The devastation. She told him about Mike and Terry and what she did to them. Of her lone road and of the day she thought of ending it all. She didn't leave anything out. And while there were tears streaming down her face, she was proud that she didn't break down, that she was able to form the words of her worst nightmare. And as she formed the words and felt the uneven breaths of the man embracing her, felt his heart racing as hers raced, she felt burdens being lifted as they were shared. She felt her grief lessen as it was absorbed by another.

And as she ended her story with the promise she had made that day to make this world safer for the vulnerable and how she had stayed alive so Andre could live on through her, Rick tightened his embrace and, in a hoarse whisper, simply stated. "Thank you."

 _Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for being alive. Thank you for being an incredible, courageous survivor who fate decided to gift me with knowing. Thank you for bringing light back into my world when you had every right to stay in the dark._

Rick was devastated. He wanted to take Michonne's pain as his own. What would he have done in those early days if he had never found Lori and Carl? Or worse, _far worse_ , found them dead? Would he have had the strength to not only carry on but to take responsibility for others? To _lead_?

Shaking his head slightly in wonder, all Rick could do was tighten his arms around this amazing woman and let her know the best way he knew how that she was no longer alone in her grief and that the battles that remained before her would be fought with him by her side, whatever they may be.

As Rick's arms folded her in even closer, Michonne closed her eyes, placed her hands over his and gave them a squeeze. While her heart ached with the telling of her story, Michonne was oddly at peace as she looked up to the blue skies.

Time does heal. Not a day would go by when she wouldn't remember her Peanut. But she vowed to remember all the good and to keep the darkness, the bad, buried where it belonged.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, Michonne realized something as she rubbed her fingers back and forth over the tops of Rick's hands while relaxing in his embrace. Sitting up, Michonne turned to face Rick, holding his left hand in hers. Running her thumb over his ring finger, she finally raised her gaze to meet his warm one.

"You took your wedding ring off."

Rick smiled and responded without hesitation. "I took it off when I returned from Hilltop that night. After you and I spoke on the radio."

Heart thudding as the meaning of his words sunk in, Michonne whispered, "Are you sure?"

Rick threaded his fingers through hers, then looked up from their clasped hands to meet her gaze. "I'm sure that I'm ready to move on. Whatever that means, whatever happens. I'm ready."

Michonne smiled and gave his fingers a squeeze. "Me too."

Carl's shout announcing breakfast being served snapped them both back to reality and, as Rick assisted Michonne from the glider, he grinned as he proclaimed that now her day was _really_ getting started.

And what a day it was. After breakfast, Rick took Michonne with him on his rounds and she had a front row seat as she watched him counsel, advise and laugh with the residents. While he was a man of few words, his people listened to each one and, if they disagreed, they did so with respect which told Michonne that Rick was a highly regarded leader. Which was amazing considering he and his group had only arrived in Alexandria a couple months prior.

It was as if human emotions moved at high speed because time was a luxury, not a given, these days and people didn't have months or years to make up their mind about each other. They had to rely on gut instinct and even a sixth sense in order to grow and maintain their community and survive.

For lunch, Rick arranged a picnic for two in one of the small community parks where they talked about their childhoods, their families, even embarrassing middle school stories. In that one hour, they seemed to share half a lifetime of history with each other and were surprised to find that they had more in common than they realized.

The rest of the afternoon was split between hanging out with Carl and Judith, helping with weapons training and then meeting with groups of residents to provide reassurances and information about the upcoming war.

And throughout the entire day, Rick kept Michonne near him. Knowing their time together was drawing to a close, he wanted to spend as many of those remaining minutes in her orbit. He asked her opinion, laughed at her dry humor, hugged her when they had brief moments of privacy and snuck in quick kisses whenever and wherever he could.

But he was always respectful as he treated their time together as building a relationship and not something as fleeting and temporary as foreplay. Even _if_ the thought of making love to Michonne was both in the forefront _and_ the recesses of his mind. They would get there and, God willing, _very_ soon but he had his wooing to do first.

She deserved it and he needed to give that to her.

 **Communications Room- Early Evening**

As Michonne signed off with Jesus, she looked at the clock and saw that she still had about five minutes before her check in with Negan. She had established a schedule of check ins every other day in order to keep Negan placated as well as to keep him apprised of any developments in their plans. Before she had left Hilltop, she had filled him in on all of the information Carl had gleaned from Lydia and, in return, Negan had updated her on how he was leveraging his outposts to put eyes and ears on the routes to each of their communities.

So far, their alliance was working surprisingly well. As Michonne leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, she took a deep breath. Why did it feel like the honeymoon period was about to end?

 **The Sanctuary**

As Stevie had provided him his report thirty minutes earlier with the information Negan had suspected about the activities of his wayward wife, he was looking forward to a much more pleasant diversion. He deserved it after the shit day he'd had.

As Negan settled into his leather chair in front of the radio, he almost rubbed his hands together in anticipation. The high points of his week were these evening calls from Michonne. Ever since he gifted her community with the guns, he felt like she was finally treating him like an equal partner and not just a hired thug.

Respect first and the fun stuff would follow, Negan was sure of it. Now that she saw he was more than a killer and actually had value, he would be able to win her to his bed. It was simply a matter of time.

"Negan, are you there? Over."

Grinning, Negan picked up the handset and replied in a tone he reserved for their evening chats. "I wouldn't be anywhere else, Beautiful. It's great to hear your voice."

Michonne rolled her eyes at what she was certain Negan perceived as his 'sexy' voice and did her best to keep the conversation about business. "I wanted to let you know that the weapons training is going really well. We've already identified some residents with sharpshooting potential." Michonne left out the part about that information being conveyed to her by Jesus as she had been in Alexandria while the training occurred. She knew Negan wouldn't like that she had made another visit.

Negan's brows drew together as something didn't sit right with him about this conversation. Pressing the talk button, he kept his tone light. "That's great to hear. We'll need all the snipers we can get when the circus hits town, right? Hey, how did your people handle the .44's? They have a bitch of a kick back. Anybody get knocked on their ass?"

Rubbing her forehead and thinking about the dinner waiting for her back at Rick's house, Michonne gave an answer that would entertain him as a bored Negan was a dangerous Negan. "There was some stumbling for sure even with our strongest men. They do pack a hellava punch."

Negan gripped the handset in his hand, feeling the plastic casing start to give under his crushing squeeze as he realized what was different. The low hum of noise in the background, indicating she was near some kind of generator or inverter box. The communications room at Hilltop was located on the second floor in the mansion and was completely silent. It had no hum whatsoever.

And Michonne hadn't been there for the training or she would know he hadn't gifted her with any .44's.

"Negan are you still there?"

Closing his eyes against the rage boiling through his veins, Negan pushed the button to end the call, replying through gritted teeth and a smile that had turned feral. "I'm here sweetheart but I gotta go. Fistfights in the courtyard and I don't want to miss the fun. I'll talk to you later okay? Bye!"

"Negan, wait...I..."

Shutting the radio off with a forceful 'click', Negan slowly stood up and backed away from the table. Turning around, he surveyed the room through a haze of red and stopped at the wooden chair in the corner. Striding over to it, Negan picked it up and threw it against the wall with a roar and continued to beat it against the cement blocks until it lay in splinters on the floor.

As he picked up the loose pieces of wood and broke each of them over his knee, he fed his anger with the chatter filling his mind.

He was done. Done being made a fool of by his wife **and** his ally. They thought they could pull one over on him? On the man who had built a _fucking kingdom_ out of a gang of ex-cons and bikers?

 _Sherry and Michonne_. Sneaking around behind his back. Laughing at him. Thinking he was a stupid thug they could manipulate and lead around by the short hairs just because they had pussies.

 _No more_. Not another day was going to go by without these women knowing exactly what and who they were dealing with.

Tomorrow was the day of reckoning.

He was _done_.

 **Alexandria**

After her call with Negan ended abruptly, Michonne made her way to Rick's house, returning greetings from the residents she passed along the way. While she knew that war was on the horizon, it was nice to simply _be_. To be a woman, a part of a community, to laugh and share stories with other people. The past couple of days had reminded her exactly what they were fighting for.

Rounding the corner, Michonne caught her breath as she spotted Rick leaning against the pillar at the top of his porch stairs, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

She could get used to that sight at the end of each day. Shaking her head and giving herself a quick lecture to slow the hell down, Michonne pasted a friendly smile on her face as she walked up the porch steps.

"I was just about to come get you." Rick murmured as he laced his fingers with his and pulled her deeper onto the porch.

Heart racing at the simple touch, Michonne replied with a smile. "I'm not late for dinner am I?"

Pulling her closer into a loose embrace, Rick peered down at her, his eyes warm with affection. "I just missed you, that's all."

Unable to help herself, Michonne wrapped her arms around Rick's neck and gave him a proper hug, whispering, "You are the sweetest man, Rick Grimes and you are spoiling me silly."

Hugging Michonne back, Rick whispered back. "Trust me, if you could read my mind, you wouldn't call me sweet."

Chuckling, Michonne pulled away and, hearing the kids in the kitchen through the screen door, retorted over her shoulder as she sauntered inside, "Is that a threat or a promise, Grimes?"

Rick groaned and followed her in a few _necessary_ minutes later.

 **Later that night**

As the credits rolled at the end of the movie in the DVD player, Michonne pointed to the screen and grinned at Rick who was seated beside her on the couch and Carl, sprawled out on the rug in front of them _. "_ Now _that_ is a superhero! Tony Stark uses his _brain_ , " she proclaimed while pointing to her head for emphasis, "and takes care of _business_."

Rick retorted with a sly smile, secretly enjoying Michonne's enthusiasm for the movie but wanting to continue their friendly rivalry. "Bruce Wayne uses his brain too, don't forget. And he has a much cooler car."

Michonne rolled her eyes. "Which you can barely see because everything is so freaking _dark_. At least with Ironman, you can actually watch what he's doing without squinting."

Rick lounged back on the couch and simply gave her a smirk to accompany his one word retort. "Lame."

Michonne reared back in mock offense, her mouth dropping open dramatically, which caused Carl to chuckle softly as he watched from the sidelines. "Did you just call me lame?"

Rick casually adjusted the pillow resting on his lap, not a care in the world. "No, I didn't. I called your answer lame, not _you_. There's a difference. A small, very tiny difference but one nonetheless."

Michonne suppressed a grin but couldn't resist sending a wink Carl's way as she gathered up the pillows she'd been resting against. "Okay Grimes, you've just insulted an esteemed guest and have set a terrible example for your impressionable young son..." With that, Michonne tilted her head towards the pillows Carl had rested his head on, happy to see the teenager took her hint. "...and there is only one way to recompense..."

"I'm a country boy and don't understand this 'recompense'..." Rick grinned as he tried to play dumb, enjoying this lighter side of the woman he was crazy about.

"Sure you don't. Okay, I'll put it simply. You're about to get a whoopin'...Carl _now_!" And with that, Rick was the recipient of a beat down from his _esteemed guest and impressionable young son_ , laughter filling the darkened living room for several long minutes until Rick called for a truce and shouted his most humble apology.

As the pillows settled onto the floor and couch, Michonne and Carl high fived each other and stood over a vanquished Rick with matching victorious grins, a sight that made Rick catch his breath as his heart thudded with pure, unfiltered emotion.

His son was happy. There was joy and laughter in their home, and there was such a feeling of _rightness_ that he didn't want it to end.

And he was going to do whatever he had to in order to give each of them the future they deserved.

Including the woman standing before him who had brought the light into their lives.

As the laughter died down, Carl saw the smiles his Dad and Michonne exchanged and, understanding when adults needed time to themselves, said his goodnights and headed upstairs, happy that his dad had found someone who made him smile and laugh again. And the bonus? Michonne made Carl happy too.

With Carl's departure and the silliness of their pillow fight behind them, a charged silence filled the room as Michonne helped Rick straighten up and then watched as he turned off the television and DVD player. She had just had the most amazing night, a night filled with simple pleasures of a meal shared with family and hanging out watching a movie together.

So simple it made her heart ache with a yearning for more.

As Rick gathered up the plates and brought them into the kitchen, he was very aware of Michonne right behind him carrying the glasses and he wished he knew what part of him to listen to. His brain?

Or every other square inch of his body which was currently yelling at him to skip washing the dishes and lead this woman straight to her room mere feet away.

"I'll wash, you dry."

Michonne's quiet proclamation snapped him out of his dangerous but very tempting plan making and Rick remembered that he was indeed a gentleman as he nodded and picked up the clean dish towel.

"Tonight was a lot of fun. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard." Shooting for conversational but settling for soft spoken, Michonne allowed the focus of hand washing dishes to keep her mind off the fact that she and Rick were standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the sink in a dimly lit, quiet kitchen.

If only her arms weren't constantly brushing up against the firm muscles of his. If only, she couldn't feel the heat coming off from his body. Or smell the clean scent of his soap...

After almost losing a glass through her fingers, Michonne put a stop to her wayward thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

What was it about seeing Michonne's long, slender fingers all wet and soapy that made him want to put the counter in front of him to excellent use? As Rick took the plates from her hands, his hip bumped up against hers and he had a quick image of his hands digging into both rounded hips as she straddled him...

"Rick?"

Shaking his head, Rick looked down to see a glass offered up for drying. "Uh sorry. My mind went somewhere for a second."

"Yeah mine too."

Swallowing, Rick looked over at Michonne and saw her parted lips and then the quick rise and fall of her chest.

 _Christ._

Silently taking the glass from her hand, Rick stole a glance at her bare shoulder, exposed by the strap of her tank top and it took everything he could to not bend down and place an open mouth kiss on it.

 _How many dishes were there?_

After a tense ten minutes of dish washing and drying, Rick finally stacked the final glass on the rack and then folded the towel, willing his good intentions to win over his baser notions. As he walked Michonne to her room, the battle raged but his determination to win her forever instead of for one night finally won out.

Then why did he feel like he was losing instead?

"I'm not going to kiss you good night because we agreed to take it slow and if I kiss you, I won't stop."

 _Then don't stop!_

Michonne gave Rick a soft smile and a nod while her brain had other things in mind. She had spent an amazing day with this man, had truly gotten to know him while watching him lead and be in his element. She knew enough to know that she was ready to be intimate with him, to take that next step.

But, two years of celibacy threw her off her game and she had no idea how to take the initiative so she took the easy way out.

"Good night, Rick. Thank you for my day. It was wonderful."

As Rick watched Michonne turn and enter the large guestroom behind her, his hands clenched with frustration.

 _What the hell had he just done?_

 **An hour later**

After tossing around the queen sized bed, Michonne sat up and swung her legs over the side. She was warm, cranky and restless and sleep was a destination she wasn't close to reaching at the moment. Giving up the fight, she stood up and strode out of the room, hoping that a glass of water would at least cool her down.

As she padded into the dark kitchen on silent feet, a soft light drew her attention to the corner of the large living room and she stopped suddenly with a gasp as she spotted Rick lounging in a large chair, an open book on his lap.

A very shirtless Rick.

Rick hadn't given much thought to why he had come downstairs to read after failing to fall asleep. He could have easily picked up the book on his nightstand and read in bed, but instead he had thrown on a pair of jeans and made his way to his favorite chair in the living room, turning up the lantern to a soft glow and settling in for the duration.

After fifteen minutes of staring at words on a page, he admitted to himself that he had come downstairs for one reason and one reason only.

 _Michonne._

He wanted her and knew she wanted him. They had known each other for such a brief space of time that he thought spending more time together was the right thing to do before going any further but he now realized that it wasn't _time_ he or Michonne needed.

It was each other.

It was that simple and he had spent an additional fifteen minutes sitting in the dimly lit room trying to think how he could make it into her bedroom without screwing it up. He was navigating unchartered waters here and wished that divine intervention could intercede.

And perhaps it did.

A whisper of a sound drew his eyes to the kitchen where they lingered on a very still Michonne, clothed only in the thin white t-shirt he had given her to sleep in. As he lounged in that chair, he took a moment to let his mind imprint her image.

His t-shirt hung loose on her slender frame but clung to the spots that counted as the v-neck dipped low, displaying her beautiful skin to perfection. Thankful that his shirt ended at the top of her thighs, he saw her long legs for the first time and he promised himself that he would explore every inch of them when the time came.

And that time was very, very soon.

Michonne swallowed and licked suddenly dry lips as she watched Rick slowly get up from the chair and walk toward her with his bow legged stride. Her eyes fastened on his muscular, lean build and her fingers twitched with anticipation, wanting to trace and grip those biceps that she knew weren't just for show.

Keep it cool Michonne. Do _not_ attack this man.

 _Not yet._

As Rick stopped less than a foot before Michonne, his eyes surveyed her up close, grateful for the dim lighting as he immediately hardened at the sight of her delicious, curvy body barely clothed in his shirt. His fingers became restless and he knew he was on borrowed time to make his move before embarrassing himself.

"You need something?"

 _You._

"I was thirsty...and...um..I wanted a drink of water." Even with all those years of college, suddenly the English language was a challenge to Michonne due to her mind being consumed with images of what she wanted to do with and to this man standing inches from her.

Lips quirking in a sly smile, his gaze not moving from Michonne's, Rick raised his hand toward the kitchen counter and grabbed a small plastic tumbler from the drying rack. Holding the cup between them, he raised a brow, as if challenging Michonne to continue her ruse.

Tearing her gaze from Rick's, Michonne looked dumbly at the cup in his hand and, without thinking, slowly drew her hand up and wrapped it around the cup as well as Rick's hand, her gaze then returning to his.

Seeing the spark in those blue eyes, Michonne knew the game was up for both of them. Her fingers tightening around his as her lips curved into a small smile, Michonne guided their hands back to the counter where they both slowly unfurled their grip to drop the cup.

Rick wanted to shout in triumph. He was about to make this woman his. And, just as importantly?

She was about to make him hers. They were equals after all.

Cupping Michonne's face in his hands, Rick lowered his head and covered her lips with his, moving over them with urgency but careful attention because her luscious lips deserved plenty of attention and care.

All day, every day if he could help it.

Standing on her toes to align her body to Rick's, Michonne threaded her fingers through his curls and tilted her head to allow him better access, her tongue darting out to meet with his as they both groaned in the quiet, dark kitchen.

Was this for real? Were they going to take that next step in their relationship or was this just a kiss good night?

Her mind filled with distracting chatter, Michonne pulled away to look up at Rick, her eyes forming the questions she didn't dare voice out loud.

Suppressing a loud groan at the absence of Michonne's mouth on his, Rick opened his eyes to find her looking at him with uncertainty and he knew exactly what she needed to hear and what he needed to say.

Giving her a gentle smile and letting all the desire he felt for her come through in his gaze, Rick broke the silence with his husky confession.

"I was going to wait five more minutes before I came in to kiss you awake."

Chuckling softly, Michonne's heart filled with joy and anticipation as she saw the humor in their situation. "What is it with you always timing me?"

Rick cupped Michonne's face in his hands and lowered his forehead to hers as he whispered. "I think it's because I'm obsessed."

 _Oh Lord help me._ Not only had Rick Grimes found his game but he was in the major leagues now. She was already warm and damp for him and he'd barely touched her.

Running her hands slowly up his bare chest to wrap around his neck, Michonne once again stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"Me too."

And with that declaration, the two of them initiated a flurry of movements, a passionate dance that was just beginning and that both never wanted to end.

Rick groaned and buried his head in Michonne's neck, wrapped his arms tightly around her lithe body and pulled her flush against him, picking her off the ground as he walked them both towards her bedroom.

Feeling more feminine than she'd ever felt in her life, Michonne felt her whole body come alive as she peppered Rick's neck and shoulders with open mouthed kisses and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Acting on instinct, Rick lifted Michonne higher against him by cupping his hands on the ass he'd been fascinated with since their first meeting.

The ass that was naked under that thin white t-shirt.

Rearing his head back to claim Michonne's mouth with his once again, his cock hardening against the denim of his jeans, Rick made short work of the distance between kitchen and her bedroom, an overwhelming need to feel his skin against hers consuming him.

She couldn't get enough of this man. As Michonne gripped Rick's hair and moved her mouth on his, she pushed her chest against the hard muscles of his naked skin and tightened her legs around his waist, willing herself to be as close to him as possible.

Finally, Rick's knees bumped up against Michonne's bed and he loosened his hold on her to gently set her feet on the floor. Once again cupping her face, Rick asked in a frantic growl, "Are you sure about this? It's not too late to..."

Michonne placed a finger on Rick's parted lips, needing to put him out of his _and her_ misery. "Rick Grimes, do the words 'I want you inside of me now' resonate with you?"

Rick closed his eyes and groaned. "Thank Christ, _yes_." And with that, he made fast work of removing his thin t-shirt from Michonne as she unbuttoned his jeans and they both drew them down his legs where he kicked them into the corner.

Their heavy breathing the only sound in the room, Rick stepped back to look at Michonne, now that she was fully revealed to his gaze.

As he looked at her beautiful face and stunning, slender body, he vowed that they would make love in the daylight as much as the night so that he could see every inch of her with no impediment.

For now? For now he would use his hands to see.

As Rick lowered Michonne to the mattress behind her, she kept her gaze on his, loving the play of emotions flickering in them as they took this leap together. She also loved the feel of his warm skin and the hard muscles it covered. She would need hours to explore every rise and dip of his body as it had fascinated her since the first moment she saw him riding up that hill on a borrowed horse.

He would never get enough of her. _Never_. Rick moaned as his hand cupped her plump, firm breast and squeezed while his lips found the sweet curve where her shoulder met her neck. As Michonne arched her back to give his mouth and hands more access, she widened her legs to cradle his hips between them.

And that bought his hard cock to where it very much needed to be.

Matching Rick's moan with one of her own, Michonne cupped his face to bring his mouth to hers, wanting to feel his tongue, his lips, even his teeth as passion consumed her. As their lips mated in raw, needy fashion, Rick's hand roamed her body, squeezing, caressing, sliding, until it finally stopped where she was wet and so ready for him.

He was barely holding on by a thread but Rick needed to do this for Michonne. He needed to give her release and then he would take his. Pushing a finger into her wet heat, Rick lightly caressed the swollen nub at her entrance and smiled when her hips left the mattress and a throaty moan sounded in his ear. Taking his time, Rick teased and stroked over and over until he had to muffle her cry of release with another slow wet kiss.

Michonne felt like she was ascending as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her, Rick's stroking having brought her to heaven and back. As consciousness returned, she opened her eyes to find Rick propped over her, his dark curls in disarray, his eyes blazing with hunger and his lips plump with her kisses.

He was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen. And he was hers. _All hers_.

Smiling up at the man who had given her so much in the past few days, Michonne drew her legs slowly up until they were wrapped around his back and she could feel his hard length at her entrance. Knowing that Rick was ever the gentleman, Michonne took the reins and whispered in his ear.

" _Please_."

And with that simple word, Rick made them one with a single thrust and their moans filled the dim, quiet room as the two leaders became lovers in truth. His heart beating out of his chest, Rick could only think in one word sentences as he rocked in and out of the woman beneath him, his eyes meeting hers as they moved together and claimed the future for theirs.

 _Mine._

 _Forever._

 _Yes._

It was hours later that either one could form a complete sentence without kisses or caresses interrupting as the passion they had unleashed had absolutely no interest in being contained once again.

After sharing an early morning shower that was only partially focused on washing, Rick and Michonne dressed each other, with Michonne giggling as she placed the borrowed shirt she had worn the night before over Rick's head and he muttered that he could smell her which made him want to initiate yet another round of lovemaking.

Shoving Rick away, Michonne stated that they could not mortify Carl which would happen very soon if they didn't get out to the kitchen and put on a kid friendly facade. After grumbling for a moment, Rick reluctantly preceded Michonne out of the bedroom, but only after giving her another lingering kiss and a quick squeeze of the ass he couldn't get enough of.

An hour later, they were enjoying breakfast with Carl and a much more pleasant Judith, laughter filling the brightly lit kitchen as the baby entertained everyone with her babbling and antics.

Suddenly, there was a burst of static coming through the handheld radio on the table as Abraham's voice interrupted their breakfast chatter.

"Rick."

"Here. Over."

"Get your ass down to the west gate _pronto_. We have company. And a lot of it. Of the leather jacket, supreme asshole variety."

 _Shit._

Barking an order to Carl to stay in the house with Judith, Rick grabbed his gun belt and weapons and flew out the door, Michonne right behind him, sword and sheath in hand. As they ran up towards the gate, they could hear a loud clanking echoing down the street. As if someone were banging on metal.

 _What the hell?_

Knowing that Abraham and the half dozen other soldiers standing at the watch points had their backs, Rick threw the inside gate open but kept the outer one locked tight.

The source of the clanking was revealed as, not even a foot away, a smiling Negan leaned against the metal gate, slowly banging his barbed wire covered bat against it over and over again. As he spied Michonne standing next to Rick, Negan's grin widened but his eyes were very, very cold as he turned to Rick and said words that sent a chill down Michonne's spine.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in."

Their brief idyll in paradise had just drawn to a close.

 **A/N: It was too important to me to make Rick and Michonne go canon during chapter 10 of my story that I cheated and crammed so much content in here to get them there. I hope you found it worth the extra words!**

 **And, yeah, um...shit's about to get real, folks, so hold onto to your pearls!**


	11. The Devil Comes Knocking

_Sacrifice and Honor. Our old history was built on men and women who sacrificed a great deal for the greater good. Who had honor and courage and were selfless. Countries were conquered, civilizations formed and futures secured on the backs of leaders, soldiers and citizens who gave everything they had and did it again the next day._

 _Our New History would take on that same pattern, starting with the ones who fought the hardest in those darkest of dark times._

 _Alexandria. Hilltop. The Sanctuary. Remember them well._

 **Alexandria 2AV**

As Carl secured the door behind his Dad and Michonne, the thoughts racing through his head drowned out the happy noises Judith made from her highchair as she finished her breakfast. Staring out the front window, his hands clenched into fists with frustration as he had no view of the west gate from where he stood.

Everything had been going so well and then _that man_ had to come and screw it all up. Carl had known from the beginning that Negan couldn't be trusted. After all, this was the same man who stole from other communities and killed _whenever and whoever_ he felt like. It wasn't a matter of _if_ , but _when_ he would take someone else Carl loved. Another family member or a friend.

And this man was now at their gate.

While Carl itched to go out there and confront him or, better yet, put an end to his existence, he had his sister to look after and, when there was danger at their doorstep that was a job he took very seriously.

But he wouldn't always be watching after Judith.

He just hoped by the time he was able to make his move, it wouldn't be too late.

 **The Sanctuary (Several hours earlier that morning)**

As the door clicked shut across the room, Negan continued his cheerful whistle as he prepared for his trip to Alexandria.

A quiet clearing of the throat preceded the greeting from near the door. "Stevie said you wanted to see me?"

Feigning happy surprise, Negan turned from his packing and gave his visitor, who was nervously sliding his gaze towards the far corner, a wide grin. "Dwight my man! Glad you could stop by. Come in, come in." Slapping the slender man's back with noticeable force, Negan directed him to a chair in that same far corner Dwight had been gazing at upon entering.

The corner which contained a very hot iron resting on a raised cinder block.

Continuing in a conversational tone, Negan continued to pack his backpack and made a great show of arming himself with his myriad of weapons, not missing Dwight's eyes shifting from the iron on the block to the guns and knives Negan handled. "Listen, I know you're a busy guy but I wanted to have a chat before I went on my day trip today. Just to set things straight." Still smiling, Negan zipped up his bag then immediately crouched in front of Dwight, his face mere inches from the pale man.

Clasping his hand on Dwight's shoulder and giving it a hard squeeze, Negan stared straight into his eyes and asked matter-of-factly, "You fucking my wife Dwight?"

To give Dwight credit, he didn't immediately shout out a denial. Most likely due to the fact that he had been with him from the beginning and knew Negan didn't issue accusations lightly.

After taking a fortifying breath, Dwight returned Negan's gaze. "It's not like that Negan..."

Negan stood up, already growing impatient and wanting to get this show and _himself_ on the road. "Not like what Dwight? Not like you sticking your dick in my _number one_ wife's pussy multiple times over multiple weeks and months? And then standing by silently while I put _my_ dick in said pussy? Even after you know how I feel about sharing? Not like _that_?"

Now Negan stood by the iron and placed it against a plant leaf and nodded as he watched the leaf sizzle.

"Negan I..."

Shaking his head, Negan walked towards Dwight with the iron in hand and stood close enough to allow Dwight to feel the heat emanating off of it. Dwight would know what was coming next. He'd witnessed this particular punishment several times during the past year for one of the most serious infractions in The Sanctuary.

Lying.

"Dwight, my man, I gotta tell you something. You really disappoint me. Out of all the women available in the home _I_ provided you, you fuck _my_ wife. _Mine_. I hope you understand that there really is only way to handle the injustice you served upon me, hmmm?"

With the iron held not an inch from his pale cheek, his beard stubble nearly singed, Dwight looked up at Negan with no fear and simply nodded. "I understand."

 _Gotcha._

And now the story could take an _interesting_ turn. Dwight's willingness to take the punishment for the affair told Negan all he needed to know.

And he would milk that knowledge for all its worth.

Tilting his head as if re-considering, Negan let a long moment pass before nodding and setting the iron back down on the block. Smiling at the confusion entering Dwight's eyes, Negan pulled up another chair and sat directly across from the man, so close their knees were almost touching.

"Here's the deal Dwight. While permanently scarring your face would bring me momentary satisfaction, I've got something else in mind. Something much more...well, _satisfying_." Watching the man who cuckolded him pale even further as his imagination was surely running wild warmed Negan's heart. Lowering his voice to a menacing growl, Negan spun his nightmare tale.

"Seems to me that your fucking of my wife was more than just fucking. It looks like you may be in love with her and maybe, just maybe, she loves you just a little bit too, hmmm?" Not waiting for a response from the very silent man across from him, Negan lowered his voice to just a whisper, knowing the impact it would have.

"I can't have that Dwight. My wives are _mine_. I give them room and board and they fuck _me_. _That's_ the deal. They all know that. If I start allowing my wives to stray, pretty soon I'll be sharing pussy with every biker and ex-con for miles around and that will be the beginning of the fucking end. So...I need to make a pretty fucking big example of you and my wayward property."

Watching the man's eyes widen in fear and his eyes dilate, Negan lamented the predictability of the human race and how love weakened people so very much. You would think that once the dead starting making meals out of the living, love would become an ancient artifact like chivalry or honor.

He continued.

"Here's what's gonna happen. Sherry will be stripped of her number one wife status and she will have a _new_ job. One created especially for her faithless ass." Negan chuckled at the play on words and continued. "She will be the 'Whore of The Sanctuary'. Nice ring, huh? Yup, I'm gonna rescind my ban on rape and let the men here and _all_ of the outposts have their turn fucking her. Morning, noon and night. She will never leave her room and she will be the one stop shop for all the nasty shit these men haven't been able to do since living under my rule."

Dwight started to shoot of his chair with a shout of "No!" before Negan slammed him back down and drew his knife to lay at the man's throat. Once Dwight settled once again, his chest heaving with agitated breaths, Negan continued. "Yup, she will be used and abused for the rest of her soon to be shortened life. After her initiation ceremony of course." With that, Negan walked over to the iron and admired it as he lifted it up. "Oh my yes, we're going to make a big show of laying this beauty right in the middle of Sherry's smooth white cheek. Her screams will be heard for miles."

By now, Dwight was sobbing silently from his chair, his head bowed. Negan cupped his hand over his ear in a mocking display. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?"

"I will do anything you want me too. _Anything_. I'll die, I'll leave, I'll kill. Name it. Just don't hurt her, _please_."

Negan put the iron down and sat down across from the man once again, taking in the shaking hands, the sweaty brow, the frantic gaze and rapid breathing. He was terrified for the woman he loved.

Just like he knew he would be. Hell, the predictability of the human race came in handy after all.

"I was hoping you would say that. And, as I'm a _very_ reasonable man, I can offer you deal #2. Now deal #2 is scary as fuck, dangerous as fuck and just, well, fucked up. But if you fulfill it?" Negan smiled and slapped Dwight on his sweaty back. "If you fulfill the deal _just as I lay out_ , you get Sherry, your choice of my outposts to call your own and your pick of food and supplies for the rest of your days. You do this job for me and _do it right_ and you'll live like a fucking king."

Dwight raised his gaze to meet Negan's, terror for the woman he loved still there but just a glimmer of hope shining through as well. Negan had him just where he wanted him.

"And you won't hurt Sherry while I'm doing this?"

"She'll have a cushy job bossing around the wives and won't have to open her legs or mouth once while you're gone, you have my word."

Dwight sat up straight in the chair, determination written on his face.

"Whatever you need me to do, consider it already done."

Negan smiled, loving when he could spin shit into fucking gold.

"You're gonna take a little trip."

 **Alexandria- West gate (mid-morning)**

Rick stared through the metal gate at the smug son of a bitch, his supposed ally, and fought the urge to draw his gun and end him. It would be so easy. One bullet between the eyes and he would never have to look at his oily smile or tolerate the fact that he still lived while Daryl lay cold in the ground.

But, after looking behind Negan at the two trucks filled with armed men, Rick knew today wouldn't be the day he killed him. Today would be another day of putting up with his bullshit bully tactics and hope that the asshole didn't push him so far that he would blow the whole deal and put those he loved (a quick glance to his right told him Michonne was standing very still at his side) at risk.

"What do you want Negan?" Rick finally responded to the man's insulting request to be let in.

The tapping of the barbed wire bat stilled as Negan straightened up, his grin widening even as the eyes that moved between Rick and Michonne were cold as ice. "Why... is that any way to greet a visitor, Deputy? I'm here to check out the digs. Look over the legendary _Alexandria_ (drawled mockingly) and see exactly what it is that impressed _our_ beautiful Michonne so very much."

After hearing just the slightest emphasis on the word depicting their joint ownership over the woman standing next to him, a woman who was their fellow leader and equal and who he was losing his heart to, Rick decided that reaching through the bars and slowly crushing Negan's windpipe would be far more satisfying than the quick death of a head shot.

 _He was here because she had screwed up_. Michonne was certain of this as she watched the two men interact through the metal gate. She had kept her second visit to Alexandria from Negan, had outright lied to him in order to avoid a confrontation and, by doing so, she had invited an even bigger conflict to Rick's doorstep.

While she wanted to fix her mistake, she knew that Rick had to handle this moment. Negan was on _his_ turf, making a scene in front of _his_ people and she could not intervene. She wouldn't do that to the man who had very quickly become so incredibly dear to her.

But Michonne hoped that Rick made the right choice.

With visions of suffocating Negan dancing through his head, Rick moved his gaze once again from that smug face to the men in the trucks, did some calculations in his head and determined that death for his 'ally' would have to wait for another day. He wouldn't put his people at risk over Negan pushing his buttons.

"Next time you want to visit, let us know ahead of time, you got that?" Words said in a low rasp in order to keep it just between the three leaders.

Negan's smile faded as he caressed the gate with his bat and replied in a similar tone. "I will if _she_ will, how's that sound Deputy, hmmm? How about there's no more sneaking around behind backs and we actually act like a _fucking_ alliance as 'out of the loop third wheel' doesn't look good on me. How about we do _that_?"

Rick nodded. Now that Negan basically confirmed that he was there out of some jealous tantrum, things made much more sense and Rick knew that both he and Michonne would have to be on high alert.

"I only want _you_ in here. Your men stay outside along with all your weapons."

Negan shook his head as he twirled his bat. "No deal on the weapons. I gave them up at her hippie commune," a nod towards a still silent Michonne, "because I trust her farmers are on a tight leash but here? I know no such thing. How do I know G.I. Joe over there..." the bat pointing toward a stoic Abraham, now standing behind Rick, "...won't try to break skin like any loyal guard dog would? No, the weapons stay but I promise not to use them unless in self defense. Deal?" Without waiting for a response, Negan gripped the bars and glared at Rick. "Good. Now open the fucking gate before I tell my men to open it for you. You've stalled long enough, Grimes. Time to play host."

Michonne's heart raced as she recognized the fury in Negan's eyes. She'd only seen it a couple of times before and it never ended well for the person on the other end. She would have to make sure not to leave the two men alone for even a second or they may very well kill each other.

With gritted teeth, Rick walked toward the gate latch. Right before flipping it, he turned to Abraham and mouthed, "Eugene," before opening the gate. Abraham understood that one word command and didn't even nod but simply turned and walked casually away. Michonne knew that he was going to the makeshift foundry Eugene had set up for the bullet making and would do whatever he could to make it look like a building of no interest from the outside. She hoped he worked fast because she and Rick could stall Negan for only so long.

While she wished they could trust Negan enough to let him know they had the ability to manufacture bullets, it was clear by his behavior this morning that their alliance was on the shakiest of grounds and timing wasn't right for that secret to be shared. It may _never_ be right.

As the gates opened, Negan got his first real look at Alexandria and, as he took in the pristine luxury homes, the freshly painted porches and the cut grass, he almost sneered.

Who the fuck were these people kidding with their Hollywood suburban set? The world had fucking ended two years ago and they were fooling themselves if they thought they could go back to how it used to be.

The world was a nightmare that was _never_ gonna end. Suck it up and move on people. Like he did.

Making a show of twirling his bat, Negan playfully nudged Grimes with his elbow, taking joy in how quickly the prick stiffened up at his touch.

He made it too damn easy.

"Quite the set up boss man. _Very_ impressive. You'll have to invite me over for book club, okay? Or maybe poker night with the boys where I'm sure you really cut loose and sneak a cold one when the housewives aren't looking. Yeah, quite the set up."

Ignoring Negan's babbling, Rick scanned the streets, hoping to not see Carl and Judith outside as he wanted them nowhere near this man during his visit. Carl was very good about keeping his sister safe but his hatred of Negan may cause him to lose his judgment so Rick would remain vigilant until Negan was gone.

While Michonne was relieved that Rick had allowed Negan inside the walls and indulged his pettiness, she was also very tense. Whenever Rick and Negan were in proximity to each other, there was potential for violence and they couldn't afford for their alliance to crumble due to tempers and jealousy. Not when they were just a couple of weeks away from war.

"Ooooh...I see an old dude leaving that building with a mighty big gun on his shoulder. Could it be that that's your armory? Can you show it to me, pretty please?"

 _Better the armory than the foundry_ , Rick thought as he led Negan toward the small building. Unlocking the door, Rick gestured for Michonne to go first and then he followed Negan inside. It was best to keep the man where he could see him at all times.

"Magnums and rifles and Glocks, oh MY!" Negan chanted as he shoved his bat under his arm and rubbed his hands together gleefully, putting on a show for his two captive hosts. "What a beautiful collection you have here Deputy. _Truly_ stunning." Careful to keep his hands off of the weapons on display, Negan made a show of peering at them closely, squinting his eyes and tilting his head. "Some of these look very familiar. Now where have I seen these before, hmmm?" A quick snap of his fingers. "Oh yeah, they're MY guns! The ones I _used_ to have, that is, until you _stole_ them."

Rick didn't miss a beat. With an affable, _very_ fake smile, he shot back. "You want them back. I'll give them to you right now, every single one of them and send you on your way."

Negan chuckled as he rested his bat against his shoulder, enjoying the familiar weight. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily Rick. Besides..." Negan's eyes grew colder as his grin became more shark like than friendly, "You're gonna need all the guns you have _real_ soon."

Rick's smile disappeared as he took a step towards Negan, mindful of Michonne's presence on the other side of the man.

"That a threat?"

A chuckle sounded but the eyes remained cold. "I don't threaten. I don't have to."

Seconds passed at a snail's pace as tension filled the quiet room until Michonne broke it by standing between the two men, wanting very much for them not to start fighting in a building filled with weapons. "Negan, back off."

Negan was able to focus on his mission today only by ignoring Michonne as best as he could. As long as he focused on Grimes and his idyllic little community, he could keep his shit together and play things out the way he wanted to. But now?

Now she was standing in front of him, looking up at him with what she most likely thought were guileless eyes but were _really_ eyes with lies behind them. Now she was protecting her new best friend and making him out to be the big bad.

Negan's temper was on the ragged edge and if he didn't get out of this small room, he would plead justifiable homicide very, very soon.

Assuming the clown persona he wore so easily, Negan threw his head back and laughed. "Come on sweetheart, I didn't mean anything by that. Ricky knows he doesn't need protection from _me_." A dramatic placement of hand to heart, "He needs his guns, even the _stolen_ ones, for when the freaks and geeks come to town, that's all."

Raising her eyebrow, Michonne didn't buy his act for a second but went with it just so she could move on. Turning her back to Negan, she faced Rick and widened her eyes as she mouthed the word _go_ , hoping that Rick would take the hint and run with it. "Rick, maybe you should show Negan the pantry. He might find that helpful."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Judith played on the floor near his feet, Carl continued his lookout from the front window, anxious to see his Dad and Michonne make an appearance.

 _There!_ Carl squinted as he made out the figures walking down the street from the west towards the community pantry. His Dad appeared to be relaxed but Carl knew better and was certain he was one wrong move or word from laying Negan out on the ground.

Which was something Carl could relate to.

As the group walked closer to his house, Carl could see Negan more clearly and his fists clenched with the need to wipe that stupid smile off of his face.

He was thief, a murderer, a bully who led a group of criminals. And his Dad was showing him their whole town. Carl hated just standing by and watching without doing or saying anything but he couldn't risk leaving Judy with anyone else while that man was nearby.

Someday soon, Carl promised himself, he would wipe that smile off of Negan's face.

Very soon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the three leaders entered the pantry, Olivia turned from stocking the shelves and, having been notified about Negan's surprise visit by Abraham, was able to muster a friendly greeting.

"Hi, I'm Olivia. I run the pantry so let me know if you have any questions or need anything."

Negan looked the plump woman up and down, let out a loud laugh and, not caring how offensive he was, looked over his shoulder at Rick while gesturing to Olivia with his thumb.

"No wonder you had to go begging for food. I'd recommend having someone keep an eye on this one, Deputy. She might know where all your loaves of bread are disappearing to."

Before Rick could tell Negan to go to hell, Olivia tapped him on the shoulder to draw his attention back around, her face flushed with anger.

"Excuse me. Negan right? Here in Alexandria, we _remember_ our manners and _use_ them. For example..." As Negan raised his brows in surprise, unused to being treated with no fear, Olivia stood straight and pasted on a polite, clearly fake smile. "I would greatly appreciate it if you could leave now as I have a great deal of work to do. It was so very nice to meet you. _Good day_." Negan reared his head back as the sarcastic words were followed by a clear gesture for him to leave.

Rick nodded and smiled at Olivia from over Negan's shoulder, proud of how this formerly timid woman stood up to the asshole who had intruded on her day. Opening the door behind him, he thanked her for her time and followed Negan and Michonne out, shutting the door on his exit.

"I have to say, Deputy, I'm impressed. I can't remember the last time I was surprised and that scrumptious armful in there laid me out like nobody's business. _Very_ cool. Can't wait to see what's behind door number three in this town. Toddler sharpshooters? Old lady ninjas?"

Rick once again ignored Negan's act, his fingers already itching to wrap themselves around the man's neck and just looking for an excuse to do it. Spotting the brand new community center up ahead, Rick determined that that would be the last stop on this farce of a tour and then he would send the asshole back to the hole he crawled out of.

"Speaking of old ladies, I spy one with my little eye. Howdy M'am!"

Swiveling his head to see who Negan was greeting, Rick buried an expletive as he saw where the lady in question, Mrs. Myles, was sitting.

On the porch of the quickly closed up foundry.

Abraham must have asked her to sit there as camouflage which would have been a smart move if not for the unfortunate train of Negan's thoughts. Exchanging a quick look with an equally concerned Michonne, Rick scrambled to distract their visitor and keep him moving.

Tipping his head to the woman, he greeted her with a dose of heavy hinting, "Morning Mrs. Myles. Sorry for intruding on your day. We're just giving Negan a quick tour of the town. Heading over to the center right now as a matter of fact."

The canny Mrs. Myles picked up on the hint and replied in kind as she nodded a greeting to them all. "Morning Rick. Nice to see you again Michonne. And...nice to meet you Negan." Gesturing toward the building just a couple houses down, Mrs. Myles continued. "We're thankful for what you've done with the place. Opening up the space for us all to gather was so smart of you. Especially knowing what's ahead of us."

Rick smiled and nodded his head from behind Negan and had started to walk away when Negan, once again, proved that he would not play along.

Placing his hands on his hips, Negan's smile was all forced charm towards the woman on the porch. "Why Mrs. Myles, are you referring to the war about to hit our fair towns? That is so fu...er... _totally_ cool. If my grandma were here, she would just be lamenting about the loss of her daytime programming, not looking forward to battle strategies in the bingo hall." Shooting a look over his shoulder at a now very still Rick and Michonne, Negan continued, "Once again, I'm impressed. You've made badasses out of suburban clichés, Grimes. If I had a hat, I'd tip it to you."

Taking a step towards Mrs. Myles and the foundry, Negan asked if he could trouble her for a cool glass of water and Rick quickly walked to his side and laid a hand on the leather clad arm. Ignoring the display Negan made of tilting his head down to glare at his hand, Rick made quick note of Abraham, Heath and Aaron, fully armed and standing a discreet distance away, ready to assist if needed.

"We have water at the community center. No need to trouble Mrs. Myles."

Being born far longer ago than yesterday, Negan sensed a great deal of tension coming off of the deputy. More tension than his casually stated words reflected.

"Aw come on, I really wanted to visit with your silver haired fox over here. I don't have any seniors in my town and it would be a real treat to talk about the days of leaded fuel and what color socks her husband wore with his sandals." With that, Negan shook off Rick's hand and walked toward the building.

Rick blocked his path and now laid a hand in the center of Negan's chest, this time putting muscle behind it and Negan raised a brow. Looking over at Michonne who, as always, was at Grimes' side, Negan let the haze of red cloud his vision and he let go of the last fuck he had to give.

Placing two hands on Rick's shoulders, Negan shoved him forcefully back and heard movement behind him, indicating the bodyguards weren't far from interfering. "No one touches me but my wives, Grimes, and you're much too hairy to appeal so _back the fuck off_."

"We're going to the community center and then you're going to leave. _That's_ what's gonna happen."

"No, I think I'm going to allow Mrs. Myles here to invite me into her house and serve me that water."

The next few seconds were a blur as Negan walked forward, Rick stopped him with a shove and then the men were suddenly grappling for position in the street, wrestling and shoving as Michonne yelled for them to stop.

 _What are you hiding Grimes, hmmm? Cocky sonofabitch. I'm going to take you down._..Negan's thoughts screeched to a halt as he and Rick faux embraced as a means to move the other. He had one thought and one thought only as his nose was a mere inch from his opponent's shoulder.

 _He smells like her._

The red haze of rage almost blinded him as the suspicions that had inspired his surprise visit, the suspicions that made him jab at Grimes throughout the tour and avoid looking at Michonne were confirmed.

 _They had fucked_. After knowing each other for _days_ , they had fucked.

And Negan now knew how this day was going to end.

Michonne's heart raced as she tried to wedge the two men apart and she gestured for the men coming to their aid to stand down. Negan's men were prepared to blow a hole in Alexandria's gate and she refused to allow that to happen. Suddenly, Negan let go of Rick and backed up a few steps, his smile completely gone and his eyes dark and cold. Her racing heart slowed in dread as he turned to meet her gaze. In their whole acquaintance, Negan had never looked at her as if he hated her, not even when she banished him over a year ago.

Negan turned his gaze from Michonne to Rick as he made a show of straightening his jacket, ignoring the lackeys who lingered a few feet away. "I'm ready to check out that community center now, Grimes, but just you me and the lady. No one else."

Rick nodded, and gestured for the men to stay behind as he led Negan to the vacant community center, his one goal to get him the hell of out of his town without blood being spilled. Afterwards, he would have a very serious conversation with Michonne about the alliance as Negan was worse than the loosest of cannons and would be a distraction they couldn't afford down the line.

As they entered the empty, dimly lit building, Negan made his way to the bottles of water on a serving table against the wall. After grabbing one, he turned to find Rick and Michonne sitting at one of the tables, side by side of course.

Focusing on Grimes, Negan took in his stoic expression and knew the man was trying to figure out how to keep it all together. How to keep his people safe, his community intact and win the war.

And how to have his happy ever after with his brand new lover.

 _Well fuck your happy endings Rick Grimes_. They died along with hope and prosperity two fucking years ago.

"Let's try something new and be honest, shall we? We're not friends and, hell, we're not even really allies, regardless of what _she_ wants." A careless gesture with his hand towards Michonne while maintaining eye contact with Rick. "It would be so easy for you and I to decide, in this room, to fuck this alliance and just annihilate each other, wouldn't it?" That got Grimes' attention as Negan observed his fist clench just a fraction and the man sit a little taller in his chair. Still silent, though, so Negan continued.

"And we both know this fight between our communities would be brutal and it would be go down to the last man. And, in that case, the only winner would be Alpha and her island of misfit toys when they ride into town, find out we did their job for them and then settle their crazy asses into _our_ towns that _we_ built."

Walking slowly towards the deceitful couple sitting at the table, Negan took a long swallow of the bottle water, drawing out the moment to suit his whim.

"So let's end our pissing contest. Today. Let's not do this anymore. No more bickering. No more threats or wrestling matches in the town square. We can walk away… neighbors." Now that he was even with the table, Negan gripped the back of the vacant chair as he continued his staring contest with Grimes, pleased to see the man's brows lower over his eyes ever so slightly, giving away his poker face.

Loving the feel of the spotlight, Negan would have been content to draw this moment out for hours but the day was wasting and it was time to wrap this up. Lowering his voice to just above a whisper, he started to lay out his offer.

"You have something that I want. One thing that makes this all right."

Rick chimed in at last. "I told you, I'll give your guns back."

Negan chuckled softly, "No, I don't need my guns back." Water bottle in hand, Negan sat down across from Rick and Michonne. "You need them more than I do. I mean you've got little old ladies and tiny tots to protect, don't you?

"I'm not leaving this alliance."

"What good would that do me? Best we stay friends until the freak show leaves town, right?"

Negan leaned forward, lowering his friendly facade and letting the loathing he felt for his rival come through in his gaze.

"Time to speak plainly. Last night Michonne called me from _your_ radio room for the _second_ time and lied to me, hoping that I wouldn't catch on that she was here and not home where she belonged. So, for the second time I was left out of her travel plans which makes me feel like I'm not really a part of this alliance." Negan leaned back and played with the label of his water bottle, assuming a conversational air to contrast with his words.

"I came here today to balance the scales, make things right. Collect payment if you will. After all, _you_ got food from Michonne and a truce with me to go with those guns you stole. _Michonne_ got guns from me, _legally_ I may add. So, what is your contribution, hmm? What the fuck do I get from you in all this? Besides a major pain in my ass?"

No answer from the silent duo across the table so Negan continued.

"I've made my living this past year collecting what was owed me so I came here today to do just that. My plan was to take a few of your solar panels and maybe borrow your Redneck Rainman...Eugene, I think his name is...to set them up for me. Yup, come in, take my payment, maybe piss you off a bit and then leave."

As Rick stared into Negan's dark eyes, his stomach churned as he felt like he was catching up on a story that was already written. And he didn't know how to stop it from being told.

Negan finally turned his gaze to Michonne, sitting so still and quiet next to her lover. So certain in her ability to figure everything out. And for a minute she had. She had been the puppet master controlling two men by their dicks.

 _Times up, darling._

"But the payment has changed today. I want one thing and one thing only."

Rick leaned forward, wanting to just strike whatever goddamned deal Negan wanted so he could get this man away from Michonne, his family and his town.

"What do you want?"

"I want Michonne. She comes home with me and this all goes away."

 _No!_ The shout remained inside Rick's head despite his need to scream it loud enough to be heard for miles. In those few silent seconds, he felt the weight of his pistol at his hip and felt the tingling in his fingers, the desire to pull the gun and pull the trigger and ensure that that filthy offer remained only a memory. One bullet between a pair of eyes a mere two feet away and Michonne is safe. Michonne stays with him and this is all over.

But Michonne's hand gripping his thigh under the table quelled his murderous thoughts and the sharpness of her nails digging into his skin through the denim of his jeans snapped him back into reality.

Killing Negan in this room would have consequences for Hilltop and Alexandria. They would find another way out of this obscene deal.

So instead of drawing his weapon, Rick settled for letting his murderous intent shine through in his gaze, which Negan noted with a small nod as he leaned back in his seat.

"Is she worth it? One woman worth all the lives here? Is she?" Negan's mouth curved into a small smile as he took in the duo sitting across from him. Finally, he was the one in control. He was the one who held all the cards.

 _Finally._

Feeling generous, Negan shared one small detail. "Oh! Forgot to add. I only want Michonne for a short visit. You didn't think I meant permanently did you?" A mocking laugh and then he continued, "No, no, that wouldn't do. My wives would be up in arms if that happened and I'd have a mutiny on my hands. No, I just want…what's it called? Quid pro quo. Something like that. It's only fair. She's visited your town, your home, your…." Negan let them fill in the blank as he gave Michonne a lewd once over and was pleased to see Rick come halfway out of his chair before Michonne grabbed his arm and eased him back down.

That's right honey, control your man. Let that memory sustain you when you realize you have _no_ control in _my_ town. Negan's smile grew wider as the thought of a helpless Michonne gave him great pleasure.

"Settle down Deputy. _Just a visit_. And while Michonne's visiting, you can sit here in your little community and feel left out. You can sit here and wonder what we're up to, okay? And then when her visit it done, everything is square. So, do we have a deal? Hmmm?"

"Negan."

Michonne's voice broke the silent stalemate and he drew his gaze to the woman he had once wanted so badly to impress and who was now simply a way to hurt the man sitting pretty on top of a world that had ended.

Slowly getting to her feet and, given confidence by the familiar weight of her sword on her back, Michonne took control of a conversation that had taken a dark turn. Standing straight and tall, she looked down at the man slouched comfortably across the table from her, a small smile on his lips.

"I am not someone's payment to give. I am not a way to 'make things right'. I make my _own_ decisions, do you understand?" Michonne took a step around the table, closer to Negan, and shot a look at Rick to stop him from shooting out of his chair. Once Rick slowly sat back down, Michonne continued, keeping her tone low and almost conversational.

"For example, I could _decide_ to draw my sword from its sheath and run it through your throat. I could _decide_ to get rid of your head altogether." Continuing her slow walk, Michonne now stood directly behind Negan, close enough so he would know she did not fear him.

"I could _decide_ to call your bluff, take you hostage and radio Jesus to get ready for war and let Alpha pick apart what is left." Michonne smiled as she observed Negan shifting in his seat and allowed herself a brief moment of victory for introducing even a moment of uncertainty into this man's cocky brain.

Continuing her walk, she stopped on the other side of the table so she could once again face Negan as she gave him her answer, the only answer available to her. "Or I could decide to indulge the whim of a man who thinks with his…" an insulting glance to the fly of Negan's jeans, " _pride_ and not with whatever brain he has left." Moving to stand beside a very tense Rick, ready to stop him from launching at Negan, Michonne continued, "I'll come to your _Sanctuary_ ," said mockingly, "but my people come with me and _then_ we're equal partners."

"Michonne, no!" Rick's low shout came as expected but Michonne would deal with him after she dealt with Negan. Leaning on the table, Michonne lowered her voice to an almost soothing tone, belying the violence in her words, "Don't look so pleased with yourself Negan. Because guess what? I've learned to kill since I banished you and I have become very, very good at it. You try anything and the people who mean the most to you, well, that would be just _you_ wouldn't it, will be dead before you have the chance to even enjoy yourself."

Negan nodded as he stood up, latent admiration for this woman bubbling to the surface once again as she took control of the situation. As much as she pissed him off, the woman was never boring, he had to hand that to her.

As he straightened his jacked, he smiled at the other two leaders, knowing when to leave on a high. "That's a deal then. I want to see you at my gates by 5 PM today and you can bring your ninja and one other farmer soldier but _he_ ," a pointed finger in Rick's direction, "can only escort you to within ten miles of The Sanctuary. I'll have eyes and ears on the road so don't try anything. We'll have a nice _visit,"_ the emphasis on the word giving it a clear double meaning, "and then we'll all be comrades in arms once again. Sound good? Great! I'll see myself out. Big Red can show me to the gate."

As Negan walked toward the door, he whistled a random tune and then stopped suddenly as if remembering something important.

"Oh and Michonne? Take a shower, will you sweetheart? Eau de Grimes isn't to my taste. Maybe something with a more floral scent? See you soon!"

With that parting shot, Negan was gone.

Stalking to the window, Rick peered out of it to make certain Abraham and the others were indeed escorting Negan out and then, pivoting on his heel, marched straight back to Michonne and pulled her into his arms for a fierce embrace, burying his face in her neck.

"Thank God you're safe. I thought for sure he was going to take you right away. Now we can call Jesus, rally the troops. We've got a good shot at beating him if we work together. All we have to do is..."

Michonne gave Rick a quick squeeze before backing up a step and laying a gentle finger on his lips, quieting the words that would never come to fruition. Looking up into his handsome face and gazing into the eyes frantic with worry for her, Michonne drew strength from the feelings she had developed for this man in such a short period of time.

She would need every ounce for what she was about to do.

"Rick, I'm going."

"What? Are you crazy? No, I won't let you..."

"Sshhh...listen to me. I'm not asking your permission. Remember who I am and who you are."

"I know damn well who you are. You're the woman I lo..."

Michonne held up her hand, stopping any declaration that he was about to state. "No, Rick, _please_. Don't say anything now that will distract me. I need my head in the game in order to do what I need to do so that you and I _can_ be in a place where we truly can talk about what we are to each other."

Gesturing to a chair, Michonne sat next to Rick and kept her hands folded on her lap, knowing that if she touched him, she would lose all resolve.

"You need to remember that I am a leader of a community of men, women and children as are you. In this world, where people are so very scarce, our roles as leaders come first. We need to take care of our people, keep them safe. And right now? _No one is safe_."

Rick ignored Michonne's distance, folded her hand between his and leaned forward to get closer to her, letting her see and hear his desperation to keep her safe. "Why does it all fall to _you_ , Michonne? Why? Negan broke the alliance by coercing you like this. He's _out_. Why can't we just band together, finish him and his goddamned Saviors off and then hunt down The Whisperers after? Why do you need to sacrifice yourself like this, dammit!"

Michonne closed her eyes and took a deep breath, unable to look at Rick without wanting to just lock herself up in his house and be selfish.

"We can't risk losing the few soldiers we have in a war with Negan when Alpha's people could be on their way as we speak. We can't risk you or I dying right before an army of the living _and_ the dead could be at our communities' doorsteps in a matter of a week or two. We don't have the time. We don't have the manpower and we don't have the luck."

Bending forward so the top of her head met his bent one, Michonne whispered, "I made an oath to myself when I stepped up as leader that I would do anything and everything to keep my community safe. They are my people. They gave me a home when I thought I wanted to die alone. They became my family when the world took mine away from me. Don't make me choose Rick. _I have to do this_."

Rick's vision blurred as he stared at their clasped hands. He hated the feeling of being helpless. He hated the truth behind her words. That she would never run away, never hide, never put others at risk when she could make things right.

Even at great sacrifice to herself.

Bowing his head further so his forehead touched their hands, Rick whispered back. "He's going to hurt you. He's always wanted you and now he's angry and he's going to hurt you to get back at us being together."

"Rick look at me." Michonne waited until Rick lifted his head, his eyes watery with what she knew was a mix of anger, helplessness and grief and her heart broke but she had to be strong for both of them.

So she smiled and she met his gaze with no hesitation or fear.

"Have faith in me, Rick Grimes. I've grabbed this tiger by the tail before and I can do it again. And, nothing he can say or do to me, _nothing_ , is worse than what has already happened to me, trust me. And, don't forget who I am, okay? I can defend myself. But I truly believe that with Negan, I just have to stay a step or two ahead of him. I'll visit his community, which I was planning on doing anyway, I'll stay long enough so that he'll think he's torturing you.."

"Which he will be."

"...and then I'll leave. And depending on how my visit goes, we can decide how our alliance with Negan will or will not continue. But I will at least have bought us more time than just a few hours to figure it all out."

Rick stood up, feeling suffocated in the dimly lit room, and ran his hands through his hair, gripping tightly as he paced. Almost to himself, he muttered, "I couldn't keep Lori safe and now I'm losing you too."

Michonne stood up, marched over to Rick and pulled his arm down, done with using the soft touch. "You listen to me and listen carefully. Your wife died tragically and sadly after _giving birth_. A birth attended by a doctor _you_ had befriended and delivered in a shelter that _you_ had found. And me?" A hand placed on her heart to drive her point home as she shook her head and gave him a direct gaze. "I'm not yours to keep safe. I need to keep _myself_ safe just like I have for _two years_ before meeting you. This is not on you, Rick, do you hear me? This is on _me_. I will come out of this whole and healthy because my people need me and because you and I have unfinished business, _do you hear me_?"

Rick looked at Michonne's beautiful face, her fierce stance and finally heard her words. Finally let them sink in past the screaming in his head. The screaming that was demanding he hunt down Negan before he lay a finger on this woman. Before he had a chance to utter one demeaning word or cause her one second of fear.

Grabbing her again, he pulled her in and whispered in her ear. "You come back to me. You _promise me_. You come back to me and then we're doing the rest of this _together_. I'm not letting you go again."

Hugging Rick back, Michonne closed her eyes, overwhelmed with feelings so strong, her heart was too full in her chest. Those feelings, coupled with the thoughts of a future worth fighting for gave Michonne every ounce of strength she needed to get through to the next day.

"I promise."

An hour later, Michonne was in the radio room, making plans with Jesus and Jim, the two men who would escort her to The Sanctuary, and Rick found himself in the unenviable position of breaking the news to Carl.

Who was not taking it well.

"No! You can't let her go Dad. You _can't_!"

"Son, I tried..."

"Then try harder! He'll hurt her Dad, don't you see? Negan hurts and kills and he loves doing it." Carl paced the living room, hands gesturing wildly as he walked, his voice shaking with anger and fear. "Let's just all leave. You, me, Michonne and Judith. Let's just pack up and go. We can be miles away from here before he knows any difference."

Rick's heart broke at Carl's determination to make an impossible situation right. It was obvious his son held Michonne in great esteem and had grown to care for her in a very short amount of time. He saw the panic in Carl's eye and knew that that same feeling was reflected in his own just a short time ago. And he didn't have the right words to tell Carl because the only words Carl wanted to hear was that Michonne wasn't going.

And he couldn't tell him that.

"Carl, Michonne and I are leaders and we can't desert our communities, no matter how much we might want to. They need us for what's coming so we can't run away. I know Michonne would never do that and I won't force her."

"So you're going to just let her go to that maniac's town and allow him to hurt her? And you're not going to do _anything_?"

"Carl, Michonne knows how..."

"Stop! I don't want to hear any of your fake reassurances! We should have killed Negan when we had the chance and now it may be too late!" With that, Carl ran upstairs and slammed his door shut.

Standing alone in the suddenly silent living room, Rick rubbed his hands over tired eyes and wondered at how much could change in just one short day.

In one short day, he had come to the realization that he had fallen in love and now had to stand by while the woman he loved put herself in great danger in order to protect their communities and prevent a second war from starting.

And in one short day, he had failed his son in order to be the leader his community needed.

 _He didn't even want to think about what tomorrow would bring._

 **A/N: Did you catch the part where I borrowed from TV canon? I love that scene, it's one of my favorites and I just couldn't resist paying homage to it. With my own twist of course. I hope you enjoyed this update. Feedback is always welcome!**

 **P.S. - A couple notes of clarification. Rick was still wearing the t-shirt Michonne had slept in and you know our girl is using lotion or perfume to smell nice so that's how Negan put two and two together (or one and one that is!). Also for anyone who is shaking your fist at Negan right now, thank you! I've done my job. This chapter was supposed to make you feel panicked for Richonne and angry at Negan. Every story has a conflict to overcome and this is one of two big ones for our couple. Stay tuned...the next chapter will be a doozy!**


	12. The Savior

_What is a hero? Someone who shows courage in the face of extreme adversity. Someone who accomplishes incredible feats. Our Old history filled its pages with heroes born of war, men and women who sacrificed for the greater good. They became famous as their names were repeated century after century._

 _Our New history has its heroes as well. Men, women and, yes, children, who showed courage every single day after The Turn. Heroes who had to make life impacting decisions_ _ **every day**_ _. Who didn't have the mundane to balance out the extreme._

 _In our new world, one could be a hero simply by being alive._

 **The Road to The Sanctuary**

As Michonne and Rick traveled to the rendezvous point five miles away, Abraham, Aaron and Heath following behind them, Michonne stared out the window as she reflected on the past few hours. Hours that went by in a blur of activity as she prepared for the trip and coordinated plans with Jesus over the radio. As she had checked each task off her mental list, Michonne hadn't allowed for any time to doubt or question what she was doing. She stayed on mission, wanting no distractions, no fear to creep in and take hold on her resolve.

 _Pay Negan a visit. Stay strong. Don't back down. Live to fight another day._

That was the mantra Michonne ran through her head as she had checked the batteries in the hand held radio before packing it, as she had given detailed instructions to Jesus and as she had put on a confident front for Rick so that he didn't make any more attempts to stop her.

But she hadn't counted on Carl seeking her out one last time as she closed the door to the house behind her. She hadn't counted on Carl standing on the porch with Judith in his arms standing straight and tall, a determined gleam in his eye.

"Don't do this Michonne. Alexandria and Hilltop can work together and fight Negan. You don't have to go."

Michonne squashed the emotions that wanted to consume her as she gazed at the young man and baby girl who had so quickly found a place in her heart. She had to stay focused or all could be lost.

"Carl, I have to go. Negan just wants a few hours of my time and I'm not risking the lives of anyone in order to avoid that request."

Carl shook his head as he shifted his baby sister to his other hip while Michonne tried to ignore the happy wave the toddler was giving her. "They're willing to fight for you, you know."

"What?"

"The people here. I asked. Sasha, Tara, Glenn, Maggie, Heath, Father Gabriel, Aaron, and everyone else. They all think of you as their leader along with my dad and they're ready to fight the Saviors to keep you safe."

 _Oh Carl, you sweet boy._

Walking up to the teenager, Michonne laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it while bringing another hand up to caress Judith's soft curls. "Carl, I appreciate you looking out for me and it means so much that you and your people think of me like that. Knowing that I have everyone at my back will make me that much stronger when I go to Negan." She paused as she gave Carl another squeeze, dipping her head to look him straight in the eye.

"But I _am_ going. I _have_ to go. I don't want one drop of blood, not one bruise or scratch due to me shying away from a possible conflict. That's not me, Carl. It never has been and it never will be. I own up to my commitments and you can't ask me to change who I am, no matter how much you want to keep me safe."

Carl swallowed and pulled his lips in as if suppressing extreme emotion. "I _do_ want to keep you safe Michonne and you can't ask _me_ to change who _I_ am."

Michonne smiled softly as her eyes blurred. "You're your father's son, Carl Grimes, that's who you are and I am so proud of you and so very happy you are in my life."

Carl breathed in deep as he looked at his sister while he contemplated his next words. "You're going then. You're going to that man, that _psycho_ , knowing everything he's done and everything he's capable of doing."

Michonne nodded and gave the boy one last squeeze. "I'm going. But I'll be back. In the meantime, you have the very important job of keeping your sister safe while your dad is away, okay?"

When Carl looked away with only the slightest of nods, Michonne's heart broke a little and, without thinking, she wrapped her arms around both children and whispered, "Thank you Carl. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for your friendship. It means everything. I _will_ see you soon, I promise."

And with that, Michonne picked up her bag and sword and quickly walked away, knowing that if she stayed another moment longer, her resolve would crumble completely and she wouldn't be able to make the trip at all.

And now an hour after saying goodbye to Carl and Judith, she was traveling down a deserted road to meet her ally turned blackmailer, while trying to convince her new lover...and _love_...that everything was going to be alright.

Life had certainly gotten way more complicated this past week and even _that_ was an understatement.

Turning her gaze from the road to the stoic man behind the wheel, Michonne's heart skipped a beat as her eyes roamed his handsome profile and her fingers twitched with the yearning to run them through his messy curls.

The day had started out as the previous one had ended, with the two of them exploring their bodies and learning each sensitive inch, learning the touches the other craved and the caresses that solicited moans, whispered entreaties and demands.

She had known this man for mere days but looking at him now, Michonne felt as if he had always been a part of her life. If she allowed her heart to rule her mind, she would even entertain the thought that perhaps the possibility of finding love again had given her the extra push that fateful day two years ago when she chose life instead of death. She'd never know for sure but she was so grateful that her path crossed with Rick's.

And she would do everything in her power to keep those paths on the same road for as long as this crazy world let them.

Overcome with sentiment, Michonne leaned towards Rick and laid her hand on the one gripping the steering wheel so tightly, wanting to relieve him of his worry for her, wanting to take on some of the burden he had shouldered as he cleared the way for her to take this trip.

Waiting for Rick to turn his gaze her way, buried emotion glittering in his blue eyes, Michonne gave him a soft smile.

"I'm ready for this. I promise."

Rick swallowed past the lump in his throat as he looked over at this woman who had an angel's smile and a warrior's heart and who had so quickly become a part of his heart and his life.

And who was now entering into the lion's den.

Alone.

Lifting his hand from the wheel to thread his fingers through hers, Rick rested both their hands on his lap, wishing he could keep her next to him forever but knowing that this was something she had to do. He was resolved to that now and he would do his part by showing his support and keeping her focused on her mission. The time for resistance was behind them and his role was clear.

Set her on her way and then gear his community up for war should Negan decide to make very poor choices.

Returning her smile with a small one of his one, Rick squeezed her hand with what he hoped she took as reassurance. "I know you're ready. I'm just trying to catch up. Which seems to be a theme in our relationship."

Her smile widening at his feeble attempt at dry humor, Michonne squeezed his hand in return. "You're here with me now, Rick. That's everything. When I enter those gates, I'll know that you have my back. That _Alexandria_ has my back and that will get me through it."

Nodding his head, Rick turned his gaze once again to the road as he saw two cars parked along the side, Jesus and Jim leaning against one of them in wait.

 _Time was up. Time to let her go._

Pulling up behind the parked cars, Rick glanced in his rearview mirror just in time to see Aaron pull up behind him and park. After everyone exited their vehicles and greetings were exchanged, Michonne reviewed the plan.

"Okay, one more time. I drive the car Rick and I took from Alexandria to The Sanctuary and arrive _alone_ as we agreed." Michonne looked over at Rick for confirmation as he had vehemently resisted her plan when she laid it out right before they left but eventually came around after she convinced him that Jesus and Jim would do more good away from The Sanctuary than within.

"Jesus, Jim, Aaron and Heath will wait here as a relay point. I will use the handheld radio to check in with Jesus within two hours of leaving here. If he doesn't hear from me or feels I'm being threatened, he will use the portable HAM radio to alert Maddy at Hilltop and Aaron will alert Glenn back in Alexandria to get ready." Nodding her head towards Abraham and Rick, Michonne found herself avoiding eye contact with the man who had held her hand so sweetly only moments before. "Abraham and Rick will immediately head back to Alexandria in order to prepare for battle since the lead will come from them. Everyone understand?"

Silent nods as a grim silence overcame the small group, everyone considering the best and worst outcomes out of the day's work.

Jesus broke the silence by pulling Michonne in for a hug as he whispered, "You've got this. Remind that asshole who's always been the boss, okay?"

Michonne hugged Jesus back as she nodded then continued nodding as the others wished her well. Finally, she turned to Rick to say goodbye and he interrupted her by placing a hand to her back while murmuring something about walking her to her car.

Just as she reached the driver side door, Rick pulled her into his arms for a fierce embrace and then before she could respond, let her go so that he could cup her face and gaze into her eyes with his fiery gaze. "You remember who you are, Michonne Sauveterre. You are a leader _equal to none_. You are a survivor and you are a woman _who is loved_ , do you understand me?"

Her eyes blurring with tears as her heart grew with each rapid breath she took, Michonne nodded and smiled before once again becoming consumed with the force of nature that was Rick Grimes as his lips lowered to hers in a passionate, searing kiss, one that would ensure he remained in her thoughts during her time at The Sanctuary.

And since Rick didn't seem to care they had an audience, Michonne wouldn't either as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, her lips moving in tandem with his as they said their goodbyes in a manner that consumed yet strengthened them both.

Finally, Michonne pulled away, threaded her fingers through his hair for one last tug as she said in a low tone for his ears only. "I'm coming back for more of that later, got it?"

Rick nodded as he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, his eyes drinking her in with fierce possession. "Got it. Stay safe."

Michonne nodded as she opened the door and got in. "Always."

And with that, her lone journey to Negan's home began.

 **The Sanctuary**

As Michonne approached The Sanctuary, she surveyed the surrounding area, noting the clean parking lots and neatly boarded up buildings, her curiosity peaked in spite of the coercion that brought her to these gates.

And what interesting gates they were. To go with the even more interesting fence surrounding Negan's community. A fifteen foot high chain link fence topped by barbed wire surrounded the main building as well as several smaller buildings and garages.

And chained to that entire perimeter fencing were dozens of writhing corpses, spaced two or three feet apart, their arms cut off and their bottom jaws gone. Smart camouflage. Not quite as neat as ditches but practical when one's community was built on asphalt instead of soft ground.

He had taken her idea for hiding a living scent behind a dead one and built it into protection for his community. Michonne had to tip her hat to him for that.

As her car crept up to the gate, it swung open and she was waved in by two burly men who were completely expressionless, no smile but even more interestingly, no threatening scowl or amused leer. Just blank expressions.

Putting her car in park toward the corner of the open courtyard, she took a deep breath and grabbed her sword and backpack before exiting.

 _Here we go._

 **On the road to Alexandria**

As they drove further away from the drop off point and Michonne, Rick felt his agitation and worry rise and his fists clenched on his lap. The last time he had felt this helpless was watching Lori slip away after giving birth.

And that had been nature taking its course. _This_...this was something entirely different. This was evil. _Criminal_. Something the former lawman buried deep inside railed against. Negan's intentions towards Michonne were bent and so very wrong and Rick was consumed with the thought that Michonne might not be able to talk her way out of them this time.

"She's got this, you know? Michonne. She has this FUBAR cluster handled." Abraham's declaration broke into Rick's riotous musings and he turned his head to face his friend but stayed silent, afraid if he spoke, he may just start yelling and won't stop.

Abraham nodded as he caught the muffled anguish on Rick's face. "I've met a lot of people since this fine world of ours decided to go in the shitter and I gotta tell you, that woman is the cream of the crop as far as folk who have pulled their shit together goes." Abraham turned to face the empty road once again, more than willing to fill the silence with his opinions. Rick had to hear them because they were the truth.

"Now Negan is an asshole of the highest order, I'll give you that. But if anyone can get in his head and make him heel, it's Michonne. Look at what she's built. She figured it out, man. Not only did she figure it out for her people but she saved our starving asses as well, don't forget. Yeah, she's got this, you gotta believe that."

Rick closed his eyes, wishing he had even a fraction of the faith Abraham had about this situation coming out right, but he had this twitchy feeling running down his spine that things had been going too well this past week and he and Michonne had found too much happiness with each other for it to last uninterrupted.

Taking a deep breath, he finally muttered, "I want to Abraham. I truly do."

Abraham flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, considering his next words carefully and with an encouraging _'fuck it'_ to himself, turned to Rick with a sideways grin. "With all due respect, your woman's a badass, Rick, and the two of you are a match made in heaven or, well, whatever we find ourselves in the middle of. Karma didn't throw you two together only to tear you apart a week later."

As Rick returned his gaze with a silent stare, Abraham realized he might have overstepped into touchy feely territory and retreated with a clearing of his throat and a mumbled thought about the progress Eugene was making before allowing silence to fill the car once again.

 **The Sanctuary**

Standing in the vast courtyard with the fence at her back, asphalt under her feet and more than several pairs of eyes watching her every move, Michonne shouldered her backpack and sword and made her way to what she assumed was the entrance.

She hadn't taken more than two steps when a slim, pale man in his late forties rounded the corner and walked toward her with hurried steps, straightening his shirt as he moved and slicking back his hair. Not two feet from her, he stopped suddenly and gave her a quick bow then smiled as he straightened, as if proud that he remembered a routine.

"Welcome to The Sanctuary, M'am. My name is Wilson and I'll be escorting you inside to meet with Negan."

Michonne raised a brow at the greeting. Negan really did set himself up as king around here, didn't he? Had a butler and everything. Nodding silently at the man, she assumed a stoic front, wanting to make it clear that she wasn't here for a social visit. As she followed Wilson inside, she took in the activity around her. Men sweeping an already cleared courtyard and wiping down clean windows. In the distance, she could see more men working on cars in an open garage and a couple more cooking some kind of an animal on a large roasting spit.

And all of this activity was silent. No one was speaking or laughing. No jokes were being told and the only glances being sent her way were furtive and fleeting.

Interesting. Michonne wondered if this silent act was for her benefit or if Negan really did like peace and quiet that much. Or, Michonne thought to herself, perhaps the only voice he liked hearing was his own.

"Right through here, M'am. Negan will give you a tour and then we'll be ready to serve some dinner."

Was Wilson trying to put on a British accent? Michonne shook her head, feeling like she stepped onto some kind of strange movie set where a very specific story was being told only it was just right of center and one could see right through it. What was Negan trying to do here?

Her thoughts were interrupted as a large metal door swung open and Wilson gestured for her to precede him into the vast darkened building. Reassured by the weapon on her back and the handheld radio in her pack, Michonne took a step forward into the devil's lair.

As she walked into the retrofitted factory, Michonne squinted her eyes and shook her head as if to clear the mirage that was before her. Lining the path of the entryway were a half dozen men on one side and the same number of women on the other, standing straight but with heads bowed and looking at the ground. And, once again, completely silent.

What kind of place was he running here?

"Michonne! Welcome! So glad you could join us. Please come in. Come in."

Michonne swiveled her gaze from the mute welcoming committee to the end of the line where Negan grinned at her, his arms thrown wide. Refusing to indulge his showmanship with a reaction, Michonne simply raised a brow and tilted her head, making it clear that she wouldn't play along.

Undeterred, Negan sauntered past his line of people and drew up beside her, close enough that she could smell the cologne he must have splashed on before making himself known. Willing herself not to wave her hand to waft away the smell, Michonne stood tall, not even flinching when he threaded his arm through hers to lead her to his line-up of people.

 _Don't humiliate him in front of his people and end this before it even began._

"I would like you to meet my inner circle. On the left, we have my lieutenants, the men I trust most closely with running this place and our outposts. I believe you've already met Samuel," Michonne nodded at the burly man, having remembered him as the man who accompanied Negan and the Whisperer prisoner to Hilltop. "And this here is Stevie. Then we have Rocco, Timothy, Big Arnold and last but certainly not least, Finch."

They're all hardened men, Michonne thought, as she took in their tattoos, scars and stoic expressions. Men who had either served time, had been about to serve time or had committed crimes that had deserved sentencing. And _this_ was Negan's inner circle? These were the men under his control? No wonder he was a control freak. He'd have be to keep these men in line.

Literally.

Nodding her head in greeting as she followed Negan down the line, she then turned to the line of women.

Women clothed in dresses of varying lengths and styles exposing legs, arms and cleavage to a garish degree. Women on display as they stood on three inch stiletto heels, their faces composed with friendly, bland expressions underneath their heavy coating of makeup.

"And these lovely ladies are my wives. Wife number six here is Amber, wife number five is Rosie..."

The anger that suddenly boiled through Michonne's veins muffled out the sound of Negan's voice as the veil of his bizarre rule lifted even further. This man had _multiple_ wives and he _numbered_ them. _Ranked_ them. And he was proud of it. Had actually brought her here to introduce to these people he kept like trophies.

To what end, she wondered. To warn her? Frighten her? Impress her? What could he possibly hope to gain by parading his lieutenants and wives out and lining them up like chess pieces in a game gone so very wrong. Did he hope to anger her into doing something stupid so he would have no choice but to punish her? He must not know her very well if he thought she could be pushed into doing something rash when she was alone on his turf.

"And this beauty here is Wife number one. Numero Uno. The one who keeps the home fires burning. Sherry, say hi to our guest."

 _Oh he lets number one speak. How special that must make her feel_ , Michonne thought as her stomach turned sour with the implications the last few minutes had drawn.

"It's very nice to meet you, M'am." the tall, slender brunette practically whispered with her eyes only briefly meeting Michonne's before looking blankly at the wall once more.

"What? Can't hear you, darlin'. Don't be shy now. Michonne won't bite." Negan taunted from his position next to Michonne.

When Sherry swallowed what looked like fear and stood taller as an immediate response before repeating her greeting more loudly, Michonne knew that in addition to leaving The Sanctuary unharmed herself, she was going to do everything she could to see that these women would have the opportunity to leave with her if given the choice.

That was a tall order to fill but determination and will were her constant bedfellows these past two years and she would figure out a way to make it happen or someone would die while she tried.

And it wasn't going to be her.

After the introductions, Negan dismissed everyone with a wave as he gestured for Michonne to follow him on the tour of his community, two of his lieutenants following at a discreet distance. As Negan walked her through the main building as well as the outbuildings within the fenced area, she observed numerous things.

Everything was spotless and organized and there was a definite hierarchy amongst his people. The top tier had the management jobs, were well dressed and had their own apartments within the former factory. The second tier slept in bunks in two large rooms, one for women and one for men in two of the smaller outbuildings and were in more servant or labor type positions and the bottom tier?

They very possibly may have been prisoners or residents who were being punished for some imagined or real transgression because they wore ill fitting prison type jumpsuits with spray painted letters on the back, kneeled with heads bowed as Negan approached and they were carefully watched by upper tier, armed residents.

And throughout the entire tour, no one spoke to Negan unless he spoke to them first. No one approached him with a question or a concern but instead waited silently for him to open the conversation. Michonne wasn't sure if they feared that barbed wire bat that Negan carried with him or were just following long standing orders of how to interact with their leader but, either way, it was very clear that Negan had a stranglehold on his people and it was no way for a community to be survive, let alone thrive.

The tour ended in front of a closed door at the end of a long, silent hallway as Negan dismissed his guards from their duty. Smiling down at Michonne, he put his bat down to lean against the wall outside the door and gestured to the sword on her back as well as her backpack. "You can leave your belongings right here, sweetheart. You won't need them for this part of your visit, trust me."

"I'd prefer to keep them with me."

Negan's smile faded and his gaze chilled. He replied in a low tone, one step above a whisper. "Don't insult my hospitality, Michonne. Leave it. _Now_."

Her heart thankfully still thudding in a normal rhythm, Michonne trusted what it was telling her and decided not to panic quite yet. She was here because she believed she could handle Negan and whatever he had planned on the other side of that door. She believed that her history with him gave her the knowledge and understanding of how his mind operated and the tour today only solidified that belief.

Shrugging the pack off her shoulder and pulling her sword over her head, Michonne placed them both on the floor while maintaining steady eye contact with Negan, making certain he could see her lack of fear. This man controlled a hundred people through fear and he wouldn't add her to his collection.

Not today. Not _ever_.

Standing up straight and tall, Michonne placed relaxed hands on her hips and gazed calmly up at Negan's smug expression, the well-being of Alexandria and Hilltop forcing her to tolerate it.

"I'll go through that door with you Negan, but I should warn you first," At his raised eyebrow, she continued. "I have a handheld radio in that bag and in..." She made a display of checking her watch. "... _43_ minutes, Jesus is going to hear me check in and say I'm doing just fine. If he doesn't hear me check in, he's going to get on _his_ portable radio and let Alexandria and Hilltop know it's time to put all that wartime training to good use."

Negan's gaze lit with surprise before his grin widened and he nodded. "Duly noted, sweetheart. Our little...chat...shouldn't take that long, I promise."

With that, he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him then clicked it shut.

Looking around the large, immaculate room, Michonne mentally shook her head.

She was in the devil's lair with no weapon and her nearest allies were ten miles away. She had only her mind and her history with Negan as her defense. She turned to face the tall leader as he slowly sauntered toward her.

It would have to be enough.

 **The Road to Alexandria**

Silence once again filled the car as Abraham kept his eyes on the road in front of him and Rick leaned his arm against the window, propping this head up while he surveyed the vista before them.

He hated each mile they drove because it put distance between him and Michonne and made him feel like he was running away instead doing the 'strategic right thing' as Michonne put it. He hated that he was in this car, heading home, his _safe_ home behind walls, while the woman he loved and respected among all others was putting herself at risk as she took that psychopath on by herself.

Just as he was about tell Abraham to turn the car around and head back to The Sanctuary, the Texan swore and swerved to avoid a car wreck in the middle of the road as they rounded a bend.

Slamming on the brakes after the near miss, Abraham kept the car in drive as he looked at Rick with anger in his eyes. "This wreck wasn't here on the way over. It's new."

Looking out the window, Rick unsnapped his holster flap but kept his gun in place as he surveyed the landscape around them. It was a lonely stretch of road lined by thick woods on each side. The wrecked car, with what looked to be a blown back tire, blocked the road completely. They'd have to get out and push it off the road or turn around and go miles out of their way to get home.

And Abraham was right. The car wreck was very new and very conveniently placed.

Rick smiled with grim resolve, almost grateful for the distraction as it provided a way for him to be useful while Michonne was dealing with danger on her own.

Gripping the handle of his machete, Rick looked over at Abraham, who had already drawn his bowie knife.

"If this is them, we're in for a fight."

Abraham grunted as he put his hand on the door handle. "I've been on edge for days, Chief. Getting bloody is just what the doctor ordered."

Giving a terse nod in agreement, Rick took a breath and placed his hand on the door handle. "Save the bullets unless you need 'em."

"Roger that."

"Let's go."

With that, the two men exited their vehicles and walked over to the wrecked car, both knives drawn and ready and their eyes on the look-out. Right before they reached the car, moans came from the woods to their left and three walkers ambled towards them, rotted flesh dangling off of their limbs, their eyes sunken in their gray faces.

Peering at the walkers closely, Rick confirmed that they were indeed dead and knew they were bait for unsuspecting victims. Signaling to Abraham to handle the walkers on his own, Rick made it look like he was following the man but was aware of a potential attack from behind while they were preoccupied with putting the walkers down.

Sure enough, just as Abraham raised his knife to slash at the dead, more rotted corpses came their way from the right.

Only these corpses could jog and hold knives.

Pretending he didn't see the attack from the corner of his eye, Rick approached Abraham and whispered a warning to him right before he pivoted on his foot and raised his knife to the first Whisperer who approached him from the back, slashing at his throat in one quick movement while kicking away a second masked attacker and then following through with a stab to the abdomen as the man stumbled back.

With two of their men down, the remaining three Whisperers looked at each other through the rotted flesh of their disguises. Just as one drew a gun from his belt and took aim, he dropped to the ground with a hole between his eyes as Rick swiveled his Python over to the remaining two Whisperers.

Who must have decided they didn't stand a chance after watching three of their comrades fall because they turned to run back into the woods they had come from.

 _Oh no you don't, assholes._ Rick shot one of them in the shoulder as he ran away, causing him to shout out in pain but continuing after his companion in a desperate flee for survival.

As the men disappeared into the forest, Abraham turned to Rick with a question in his eyes. Rick growled, "We need at least one alive."

And, with that, the men took off running into the dense woods, returning ten minutes later with their prisoner in tow, slightly groggy from being hit on the head with the butt of Rick's gun but none the worse for wear.

The second Whisperer made the woods his grave as penalty for trying to attack two armed and hardened warriors with only a knife and murderous intent.

As Rick bundled the prisoner into the back of their car, he turned to Abraham, noting how the large Texan now seemed more relaxed.

"Let's move the wreck and get home. We need to be there in case Jesus or Aaron calls." Rick looked over his shoulder at the complacent Whisperer, tightly bound and prone across the back seat. "And I want to chat with our new friend here."

With a nod, Abraham turned and walked toward the car blocking the road. "Can't wait to see which version of crazy _this_ asshole ends up being."

 **The Sanctuary - Negan's Room**

Walking over to the window, Michonne looked out at the courtyard below, now bustling with activity and chatter when before it was silent.

Keeping her back to Negan while she heard the clink of glass hitting glass as he poured them a drink, Michonne asked the question on her mind since her arrival. "Why was everyone quiet around me? It was strange. Grown men working together and not a word spoken between them."

Willing herself not to tense as Negan stood at her back, Michonne accepted the tumbler of whiskey he handed her.

"My men and most of my women are, how should I say, a bit rough around the edges and haven't had much opportunity to practice their manners for company so I told them to only speak when spoken to in order to minimize the chance they would fuck up and say something wrong."

Holding the glass in her hands, Michonne felt reassured that within moments, she could shatter it and use a shard as a weapon, just as that Whisperer did a few days ago at Hilltop. Even with the makeshift weapon though, she felt the need to put distance between her and Negan so she walked away from the window under the guise of taking in her surroundings.

"So it's okay for _you_ to use profanity every other word but not your people? _Tsk, tsk_ , Negan, using a double standard like that. Be careful or those 'rough' people out there may grow to resent being censored and then one thing leads to another and..."

"My people will never rise against me. _Never_." Negan interrupted with certainty in his voice as he continued to follow her around the room, sipping his whiskey as he went. "Their lives were complete shit when I found them and most of them would have been road kill long ago if not for me and this place. There's a reason it's called The Sanctuary, darlin', and my people know well and good they were _saved_ when their miserable paths crossed mine."

Michonne turned to face Negan, raising a brow at his nearness and took a small step backward for breathing room before responding.

"I've seen what you've built, Negan, and it's impressive. You've established order and a system with people who may have lived a lifetime with none. You've given them shelter, protection and jobs to do."

Negan swallowed down the remainder of his whiskey and put his glass down on the table next to him before crossing his arms in a waiting stance that matched his raised brows.

Michonne continued at his prompting. "But your house of cards has the flimsiest of foundations and you risk it falling down around you if you're not careful."

"Dumb it down for the back row, sweetheart. What the hell are you talking about?"

"You've built _everything_ , your whole community and how you run it on one thing and one thing only."

"And what's that?"

"Fear."

Negan threw his head back and laughed, "Of course it's built on fear, darling! We're living at the end of the world as we knew it and keep company with the _dead_. These people _should_ live with fear every goddamned day if they want to _live_. As soon as you feel safe, that's when you get soft. And as soon as you get soft, that's when you get eaten."

Michonne nodded as she took another small step backward, "That's where you and I differ. A healthy dose of reality about the world around you is necessary but to live in constant fear of your leader? To not feel safe and free to be yourself in your own home? Over time, that changes you. Over time, living in fear makes you rely on your baser instincts for survival. Do you remember what they are?"

"No, but you're dying to educate me so please..."

" _Fight or flight_. That's it. Sooner or later, your people are going to run away for greener, friendlier pastures or, and this should be of bigger concern to you and your sense of self preservation, they will decide to fight."

"Fight _me_? Not a chance. I'm a fucking _god_ to these people and they go to bed, the bed _I_ provide them, praying their gratitude each and every goddamned night."

Michonne let her silence speak for itself. If Negan wanted to bask in his delusions of grandeur, he would do it alone.

Shaking his head as if clearing it, Negan approached Michonne with a sudden series of steps and loomed over her with a leer. "You're distracting me and wasting our precious minutes together and we can't have that now can we?"

Michonne was _done_. She was done with the mind games, the coercion, his god complex. She was done with this man and just wanted to get home to Rick and his family, the family she was starting to think of as her own.

"Why did you want me to come here Negan?"

"Why, I wanted to show you that I built something _Michonne_. That Grimes isn't the only dick with a brain around these parts. We're allies, right? Shouldn't you see what you paid for with all those eggs and apples? Shouldn't you see that there are more options than a bumpkin deputy?"

As he spoke, Michonne could see Negan's eyes grow cold as anger took control and he reminded himself that she and Rick had grown closer.

Willing her heart rate to beat in normal rhythms, Michonne kept her voice calm, again not willing to let him see an ounce of fear. Like any predator, Negan would jump at that fear and she would lose whatever remaining power over him.

"Well, I'm _here_. I've seen what you've built and I've let you know what I've thought of it. What now? What big plan do you have for me, Negan? Let's get on with it. I don't want to drive after dark."

Okay, that might have been poking at the bear a bit too much as Negan's expression darkened even further as he stepped closer to her, dipping his head to get in her face.

" _Fuck_ your schedule. _Fuck_ your timeline. You're here to right a wrong, Michonne, and you're not leaving until you do."

"Right a wrong? What are you talking about?"

"What the fuck do you think I'm talking about! You fucked Grimes after knowing him for _days_. You worked side by side with me, hunted with me, lived with me for months and didn't give me the time of fucking day!"

The surge of anger coursing through her body drowned out whatever glimmer of fear Michonne had felt and she stood straight, looked Negan directly in the eye and refused to back away. After putting the untouched glass of whiskey down next to her, she flexed her fingers, itching to claw at the man before her.

"You _blackmailed_ me into coming to this place, took me away from my friends and family, during a time of war mind you, out of some sense of betrayal? Is that it? Some sense of being the _victim_ in all of this?"

Negan stood straight and simply glared at her in silence which Michonne took as a yes.

"You can't force attraction Negan. Even _you_ don't have the power to do that. You weren't my type when we worked side by side clearing that mountain and you weren't my type when you were working your deals and collecting your groupies at Hilltop and you _certainly_ weren't my type when you watched the two men who had _taken you in and given you a home_ , clothed and fed you get _attacked and bitten_ a foot away from you!" Michonne was seething now as memories of her relationship with Negan consumed her and she wondered why she had ever thought it was a good idea to enter into an alliance with him.

The room crackled with tension as Negan clenched his fists with suppressed rage and Michonne finally let hers come to the surface.

She had just gotten started.

"I could have killed you that day. I could have run you through with my sword and my people would have applauded. I could have rid this world of one more bad guy and my people would have been grateful. I could have been judge, jury and executioner because that's what this world would have allowed me to be. But what did I do? Hmm? What did I do that day, Negan?"

Now Michonne was the one on the prowl, walking back towards the large man without an ounce of fear or trepidation to slow her down. When she was mere inches away from him, close enough to feel his breath on her face, she continued.

"I let you _live_. I gave you a second chance that day. And look at you..'King Shit' I think you said, right? You built your kingdom, with all the trappings of royalty and dictator all wrapped up in one cocky, self-absorbed package."

Negan turned and poured himself another whiskey, throwing it back in one gulp. "And I paid you back by not attacking Hilltop, not _once_ in a year, even when my people were hungry."

Michonne nodded, making a show of considering his words. "Okay, Negan, let's take your skewed logic and say that we're even. I let you live and you let me live. _Great_. Now let's talk about our current situation. I ask you to be an ally, give you and your people fair warning of an imminent attack, arrange for a cease fire between you and Alexandria..."

"For which Grimes equally benefits..."

Michonne nodded, conceding his point because she had already moved three arguments down the line, "...give your people food and give you purpose as a leader. An opportunity to hit the restart button and do some good before you die."

Negan's snort told Michonne how much he valued _that_ but she ignored it and continued. "So _all_ of that, _all_ of our history, all of our give and take goes out the window because you have some misguided sense of ownership over me. Some sense of 'I saw her first' that you can't get over?"

Michonne approached Negan where he stood by the bar, noting all of the glasses that could be used as weapons placed temptingly nearby.

"I'm not a bone to be fought over. I'm not currency, bartered goods or a prize. I am a _leader_ , just like you and just like Rick. I am a woman of free will who will decide who I am attracted to, who will decide who I will have sex with, fall in love with and fight with..." a meaningful pause, "...or _against_. Are we clear on that?"

Negan looked down at Michonne as his anger cooled in the face of her rage. Her words were all true and he wouldn't deny them but that didn't mean things could ever be right between the two of them again, not with Grimes in the picture. Never with Grimes in the picture. He hated that self-righteous son of a bitch and hated that Michonne had most likely fallen for the prick.

He had six wives and wanted none of them as much as he wanted this woman.

Negan thought it was time to pay Michonne's brutal honesty back with some of his own. "When I realized you had fucked Grimes, my first instinct was to rip his fucking head off and feed it to my feral pigs. But then I thought about it some more and realized it wouldn't be a very leader-like thing to do, now would it?"

"No, no it wouldn't."

"So, the next best way to hurt a man besides killing him is through his vagina."

" _What_? What are you talking about?"

Negan smiled darkly as he bent his head to whisper. "Through his _woman_. The best way to hurt a man is through his woman. And boy do I want to hurt Grimes something awful. That's why I made you come here. I want him to wonder every fucking minute that he's not with you what's happening to you, what terrible things I am doing to you. All because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants."

Michonne breathed an internal sigh of relief, even as she wondered at Negan's mental capacity and maturity. He made her come here just so he could stick it to his rival? What kind of twisted mind thought to do that while they were all preparing to battle an incoming army?

"Alright, Negan, you did that. I can guarantee you Rick is very, very worried right now and is devising ways to rip _your_ head off, trust me."

Negan chuckled as he walked toward a set of drawers at the end of the room. "I bet he is. I wish I could be a fly on one of those fancy walls of his to see it. But, I'll just have to rely on my imagination, I guess." Opening the top drawer of the dresser, Negan pulled out something silky and bright red. Walking back over to Michonne, he held it out for her to take, which she refused to do with a shake of her head.

"What is it?"

"It's the dress you're going to wear for dinner. That's how you re-pay me for my wonderful hospitality. I've thought about you in this dress since our first meeting in that cabin and I want you sitting next to me tonight, in front of my people, wearing it."

 _It would be so easy to give in_. Just wear the dress and appease the pissed off egomaniacal leader. Go home with no blood drawn.

But there wouldn't be a mirror in the world she would be able to look in again with the level of shame she would carry with her for giving in.

Coercion was coercion, even if it stopped at wearing a dress and paraded before strangers like a prize.

Taking a chance, Michonne pushed against his will one more time.

"I saw your 'wives' Negan. They wore dresses like these. Dresses meant to show off their bodies, remind the men around them what their purpose was. Dresses and shoes that have no place in a world where fences can come down at any minute and one might have to run for their lives. Those women wear the dresses because they feel like they have no choice. That they'll be punished or cast out or fall out of favor with their 'god' if they refuse."

Negan stood silently, the red silky dress clutched in his hand.

"If I put that dress on. If I wear it downstairs and allow you to show me off to your people, I am no longer _me_. I'm no longer the woman you're attracted to. The woman you covet, perhaps even admire. I will be just like the woman who live in fear every day. Because putting on that dress will be very much against my will, Negan. It will be coercion and it will make you lose whatever respect you may have left for me."

"Maybe but it will feel damn good watching you get off your goddamned high horse and slum it."

Michonne nodded. "You'll feel satisfaction for a short period of time, I get it. Revenge is sweet and all that. But do you remember what you wrote to me in that letter last year when you told me about your new set up?"

Negan swallowed and nodded.

"You told me the world was more interesting with me in it. Well, the person you wrote about in that letter is standing before you," Michonne gestured to herself, making sure he took note of her pants, boots and modest, practical top.

"This is _me_ , Negan. Right here. _This_ is the woman you like having in our world and if you make me wear that dress, that woman goes away. And you don't want that."

Negan took in a big breath of air and his fist clenched around the dress. His eyes roved over the woman standing before him and he reluctantly allowed a small glimmer of respect to escape from his locked up heart. The woman had balls of steel. She always did and it was those balls that made her so very unique and special.

He had accomplished what he set out to do today. Torture Grimes. The rest of it was just icing on a fucking cake anyway.

Tossing the dress into the corner, Negan gestured for Michonne to precede him through the door. "Let's go eat. I'm warning you, though, my people won't be silent and they may just hurt your virginal ears."

Michonne denied a victorious grin from escaping and instead simply quirked her lips with her terse nod.

"I'd expect nothing less."

 **Gates at Alexandria**

Abraham put the car into park right inside the gates as Rick hopped out and opened the back door, pulling his prisoner out. Directing Scott and Tobin to escort the man to the cell that had been built in one of the vacant homes, Rick popped the trunk to retrieve his gear, anxious to hear from Jesus and Aaron that Michonne had checked in via the radio and was safe. Wondering if Carl and Judith had eaten yet, Rick walked toward his house when he saw Glenn running towards him, a wild look of worry on his face.

"What is it? What happened? Is Michonne..."

"It's not Michonne. It's Carl."

Rick's heart started to race. "What about Carl? Where is he?"

"That's the problem. We don't know where he is. He's disappeared."

"What? When did you see him last?"

Glen took a deep breath as he knew the next words were going to strike fear in Rick's heart. "A couple of hours ago, Carl dropped Judith off to Maggie, saying that he had some training to do with the archers and that he would be back within an hour. Maggie thought nothing of it and took her. When Carl didn't pick her up like he said he would, I checked with the archers he was supposed to be training with and they said they had nothing scheduled with him today."

Rick's brow furrowed with confusion. "He lied? Why would he do that?" Suddenly an awful thought occurred to him, a thought so dangerous, he felt unsteady on his feet. "When exactly did Carl drop Judith off to you?"

Glen laid his hand on Rick's arm. "Right before you left with Michonne. Minutes before."

 _Oh Christ. He wouldn't dare._ And then Rick thought of the times Carl expressed his hatred for Negan and the need for him to die. He thought of the argument he had had with him earlier that day, the rage in his son's eye at the thought of Michonne being forced to go to Negan against her will.

It all made sense in a sick, senseless way.

Turning around and racing to the car, Rick yelled for Abraham on the way. When they both met up at the car, Abraham asked what the fire was.

"It's Carl. I think he stowed away in our car. He's at The Sanctuary."

With a barked expletive, Abraham followed Rick into the car and honked to signal for the gate to open.

Rick closed his eyes and started to pray.

 **The Sanctuary - Courtyard**

Michonne felt a calm steal over her as well as a sense of pride.

 _She had done it_. She had gone toe to toe with Negan and came out unscathed. Perhaps the day wouldn't end in a disaster after all. As they entered the empty courtyard, she looked over at Negan walking several feet away from her, once again carrying his barbed wire covered bat. A bat she found out he had dubbed 'Lucille' after an old girlfriend, and she was almost reassured by the cocky mien he had once again assumed.

She just had to get through dinner, put on a happy front and then she could go home.

"Zing!"

Michonne cringed as shards of wood and bits of wire sprayed the air around her as a chunk of Negan's bat exploded into nothingness.

"What the FUCK!" Negan roared as the two of them looked over in the direction of the shot just as the assailant came out from behind the drums of gasoline stacked up in the corner of the courtyard, his silenced pistol held out straight in front of him as he looked ready to take aim again.

Michonne's heart sank as her eyes widened in horror and disbelief.

Carl was here and he had just tried to kill Negan. And by the look in his eye was about to pull the trigger again.

Only this time he wouldn't miss.

 **A/N: I hope this chapter brought some sense of satisfaction as our girl handled the lion in his den like the Queen she is. And...um...yeah, about Carl...lol. Hey, he's a teenager, what can I say? And, yes, I paid homage again, this time to GN Carl and the headaches he caused Negan.**

 **As always, feedback is welcome!**


	13. Redemption

**A/N: It's the final countdown everyone! The next few chapters are going to be action packed as we head towards the end of my tale. You've all been so wonderful supporting this story that is as much an adventure as it is a love story. Thank you for indulging a writer who wanted to do something a bit different!**

 _In the early days of our New History, the living were still in transition, still trying to figure out how the world would work without laws, without government. What kind of person survived amongst the dead? What kind of person thrived in this new world? Were they good? Evil? Kind? Cruel?_

 _Or were they all just human? Trying to find a foothold in a world gone bad. Trying to create a new world that may one day right itself and offer a chance for everyone._

 _Those early days, my friends, those dark, dark days set the foundation of what was to come and we must learn from it so we don't go down the wrong path once more._

 **Valley in Southern Maryland (2AV)**

 _Do whatever they say and hopefully they won't kill him. Show them he was useful and maybe they'd give him a home. A community_. The man repeated these words to himself throughout the two mile trek from where he was picked up from the side of the road, exhausted and afraid but holding onto a glimmer of hope that he was taking control of his future at last.

He kept his head down as he followed the community recruiter off the road and onto a wooded path, not once looking at the other two new recruits walking at his side, a middle aged couple who looked sturdy but whose hands shook with fear.

You never knew what could be over the next rise these days. It could be your salvation or your tomb. Years more of life or a quick death. As the recruiter barked over his shoulder that they had arrived and for the three of them to keep their mouths shut, the man stood straight and lifted his head, anxious to see his new home.

His eyes widened as he looked at what had to be a mirage brought on by exhaustion for surely it couldn't be real.

Nestled in a lush green valley, surrounded by gently sloping hills dotted with trees, was a community of rough shelters made of tree branches and tarps, campfires, clotheslines displaying hundreds of articles of clothing in various states of cleanliness and repair and gutted deer hanging from branches with blood spilling onto the ground below.

There were hundreds of men, women and children milling around, mostly barefoot, hair limp and faces dirty, darting around from task to task while others walked with heads up and a purpose to their step. Their clothes were cleaner but their faces...

Well, he couldn't see their actual faces because of the death masks they wore. Masks made of the skin of the living corpses they shared the world with. Masks that hid their scent from the dead and made them look like a twisted mutation of human and formerly human.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat and feeling his heart race with trepidation, the man sent a quick prayer up to whoever was willing to listen to give him strength, as he would need every ounce of it.

For he had the notion that he was entering into some version of hell as he followed the recruiter down the path toward the community. A version of hell with a macabre perimeter fence solely comprised of writhing corpses facing outwards and buried to their knees in the ground, arms outstretched and linked to the next one with a rope, their moans drowning out whatever chatter was occurring amongst the living.

As the man approached the small opening in the 'fence', his eyes shot up the sky for one last plea for help.

He _had_ to make this work. It was his last chance.

 **The Sanctuary - Inner Courtyard**

 _It was surreal_. In the few seconds Michonne had to react, all she could think about was how surreal it was that a young teenage boy had somehow smuggled himself into The Sanctuary in order to kill its leader.

 _Negan_. The man who now held _both_ her and Carl's lives in his hands. Knowing the next minute was going to determine whether she and Carl made it out of there alive, Michonne acted on pure instinct and threw herself in front of Negan just as Carl raised the gun to take aim again.

Turning to face the boy, she started to scream for him to put the gun down but the words died in her throat as she finally got a good look at him. And what she saw made her heart swell with pride even while it was racing in terror.

He had removed his bandage, exposing the empty socket where his eye no longer existed, just a thin layer of skin covering the hole, a raw and angry reminder of what this boy had survived and a testament to his will to live.

As Carl stood in that courtyard, the arm holding the gun steady and strong, Michonne remembered their conversation on her portico just a couple of days ago. About warriors wearing their scars with pride. He had taken her advice to heart and, if they lived beyond this day, she would make sure he never felt the need to put that bandage on again.

"Michonne, move! He doesn't deserve to live!"

Michonne could see two of Negan's soldiers approaching Carl from the back, their guns raised to take him out, but before Michonne could scream for him to look out, the men made eye contact with Negan, standing behind her and, whatever they saw, made them holster their weapons as they continued to approach the boy.

Encouraged by Negan's clemency, even if it was only temporary, Michonne forced calm into her voice. "Carl, listen to me. I'm not moving and you're not going to risk shooting me so just put your gun down on the ground and let's talk things through okay? I'm _fin_ e. Look at me. I'm perfectly fine so there is no need for anyone to get hurt today, okay?"

Carl lowered his gun slightly but his gaze burned with fury. "Negan is a _killer_. He killed Daryl and other innocent people and he's just waiting for the chance to kill my Dad so he can take everything for himself, including _you_. I need to stop him, don't you see that?!"

Michonne's heart broke for the trauma she could see bubble up through the boy's anger and she wanted so very much to find a way for this young man to be a kid again instead of the cold soldier his losses were forcing him to become.

Seeing that the men were close enough to grab Carl but were waiting for him lower the gun completely, Michonne continued pleading her case. "Carl, I promise you that Negan, your Dad and I will talk and we will figure out how to make this all work. Negan and I came to an understanding today and I'll work with your Dad. We have to fight together against the Whisperers, remember? _All of us_. Please put the gun down and we'll talk."

Carl stared at her for a long moment and then his gaze lifted to glare at Negan who stood so silently and still behind her. Michonne wished she could see Negan's expression but she didn't dare take her eyes off of Carl.

Finally, Carl lowered his weapon, having come to the decision that he wouldn't have a clear shot and trusting that Michonne would find a way to protect his father and his community from falling to this man.

The moment the gun was lowered, the men grabbed him and roughly pushed him to the ground, wrenching his arms behind and tying his hands with a zip tie, one man's knee pressing into Carl's back.

Hating the rough treatment of the teenage boy, Michonne turned around to face Negan. As the immediate danger disappeared, she realized that Negan would demand payment for the attempt on his life and Michonne was determined to not have one hair on Carl's head harmed.

Not under her watch.

Gripping Negan's arms, Michonne drew his dark stare from Carl down to her and his brows lowered over his eyes as he took in her wide tear filled gaze.

In a low, fervent tone, Michonne pled her case. "Negan, Carl is just a boy. _Please_ don't hurt him. I'll do anything you want. Just leave him alone." Her eyes darted around in a panic as spoke quickly. "I...I'll wear the dress. I'll wear it and sit next to you at dinner. I'll stay another day. _Anything_. Just please let him go."

What the ever loving _fuck_ was going on here? Negan's brain played catch up to the cluster fuck that had just occurred, his shattered bat dangling uselessly toward the ground as he focused on the woman before him.

Tears ran down her cheeks from watery eyes and her hands gripped his biceps with strength brought on by that fear. As Negan examined Michonne's face, her words sunk in and he realized that she had just handed herself to him on a silver platter.

In order to save the kid. _Rick Grimes'_ kid.

Removing her hands from his arms, Negan took a step back as he gave his head a slow shake. Michonne had been right when she had lectured him earlier in his room. Her offer just now, combined with her teary eyes and trembling hands made her _ordinary_. Made her just like every other woman he had come across since the world had gone to shit. He _hated_ that she was willing to sacrifice herself for a psycho teenager she had just met when not even thirty minutes ago she was treating him like an insect beneath her shoe.

Sighing, Negan gestured to his men to pick the kid off the ground. "Take him to my office." Looking down at Michonne and cringing as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, he pointed his damaged bat back towards the building they had just exited. "Let's go, sweetheart. Time to have a little chat."

 **Whisperer's Camp**

As the man crouched near a large campfire next to the couple he had arrived with, he continued to observe the activities around him, taking in the bizarre operation and growing more disturbed by the minute.

There was no laughter among the unmasked people and the only conversations were muttered and quiet as if they didn't want to disturb the ones wearing the masks. There was a definite hierarchy and a blanket of fear and intimidation made the air thick with tension and unrest.

 _What the hell had he gotten himself into?_

"Get up. She'll see you now. Do not speak unless you're asked a direct question and do not, _ever_ , look her in the eye. Got it? Good."

As the recruiter interrupted the man's musings, he looked up to see him gesture impatiently and quickly got to his feet, eager to obey orders and fit in. As he walked toward the large shelter in the middle of the camp, he noticed a large number of masked men milling around, weapons in plain sight, and knew that he was being led to their leader.

Swallowing his fear, the man stood straight and reminded himself why he was here. He was here for his survival and for...

"Hello."

His eyes flickering up, the man observed the woman standing before him, taking care not to make eye contact. As he bowed his head and mumbled a greeting, his heart accelerated. The woman was tall and slender, dressed in cargo pants and a button down shirt, combat boots on her feet.

And she was completely bald. Not a hair on her head.

"Come closer. Let me see you."

The man walked forward, trying to look confident but knowing he failed when she chuckled and told him not to be afraid.

When he was just a couple feet away from the leader, he dared another glance and noted that the woman had a beautiful face as she tilted her head to examine him more closely.

"My name is Alpha and I am the leader of this community. Pete, our recruiter, told me that he found you hunting in the woods just a couple miles from here. Said you got a buck?"

"Yes, M'am."

"Impressive. We'd thought all the woods nearby were picked clean from our hunting. And there you were, taking down a sixteen point buck. That deer will go a long way feeding us. Thank you."

The man nodded, wondering if this was her version of an entrance interview. He hoped so at least.

"Where did you come from?"

"I had a small camp about fifteen miles west of here. It was overrun a few days ago and killed everyone I was with."

Alpha hummed a bit in response as she loosely clasped her hands in front of her.

"But you survived. How fortunate."

The man nodded again.

"Pete showed me your crossbow. Looks to be in very good condition. You take care of it."

"It's kept me alive a long time, M'am."

"Yes it has and now it will help keep us alive. I'm looking for more soldiers. Men who can hunt and fight. Who can track. Can you do all of that?"

He was _in_. Thank God.

"Yes I can M'am. Yes I can."

"Excellent. What is your name?"

The man stood tall, briefly looked at Alpha's face as he smiled, not even trying to hide his relief.

"My name is Dwight."

Alpha clasped his shoulder as she returned his smile. "Well, Dwight, welcome to your new home. You're going to fit in very nicely here."

"Thank you M'am. I promise I'll be everything you need me to be."

 _His life depended on it._

 **The Sanctuary**

As Michonne followed Carl into Negan's office, she felt the absence of the sword from her back and surveyed the room for possible weapons. Anything that could help her keep Carl safe.

The sparsely furnished room held a large wooden desk with high back leather chair and a small table with folding chairs placed around it. No paperweights, no glass, no spare bats leaning against the wall.

"Sit down kid. Take a load off." Negan's demand from over her shoulder drew her eyes to the man walking past her towards Carl. A man with a history of violence and who had zero tolerance for the weak or the stupid. Unable to gauge his mood after glancing into his dark eyes, Michonne resigned herself to having no plan of escape or defense and would have to react to whatever Negan had planned.

After dismissing his men and telling them to wait outside the door, Negan pointed to the leather desk chair and directed Michonne to sit there and keep quiet. Her fists clenching with frustration, Michonne abided by what the man wanted, not wanting to agitate him more than he already was.

As Negan straddled one of the folding chairs and settled down a foot away from Carl, he observed Michonne from the corner of his eye. Her tears were gone and her expression was once again determined. _Thank Fuck_. At least _one_ thing was normal in this room.

Lifting his splintered bat up so it was mere inches from the boy, Negan noted that the kid barely flickered an eyelash but instead continued to stare at him coldly through that one eye.

He had balls to spare. _Fascinating_.

"I gotta hand it to you, kid. You know how to get my attention. And get it you most certainly did. How the fuck did you break into my compound?"

"I hid in the trunk of Michonne's car and got out when the courtyard was empty."

Shit, the kid didn't even try to lie but instead just laid it out on the table. Not used to interrogating someone who wasn't pissing their pants, Negan began to enjoy himself, despite holding the fatally injured Lucille in his hand.

Nodding his head, Negan made a show of examining his bat. "And why did you shoot at poor Lucille here. What did she ever do to you?"

Carl's brows raised slightly, stretching the skin covering his empty socket as his good eye widened. Negan wasn't sure whether to be disgusted or impressed that this teenager laid bare his disfigurement for all to see.

"I missed."

"You missed?"

Carl nodded, leaning back in his chair and assuming a relaxed pose, even with his hands tied behind his back. "I meant to shoot you in the head. My aim was off. I guess I wasn't used to shooting without my bandage on."

 _Shee-ittt_. Cold as ice, this kid was and Negan forgot Michonne was even in the room as he focused on the boy, needing to get into his head as he'd never dealt with anyone like him before.

"So you rode in a trunk of a car for thirty miles into hostile territory, territory filled with dozens of armed grown men, so you could put a bullet in my head?"

A silent nod accompanied by a cold smile.

Negan whistled, deciding he was definitely impressed and not disgusted after all. This kid could teach his men a thing or two about killing in the new world. Standing up, Negan twirled his bat as he paced in front of Carl, needing to see how much he could push him.

"What did you think would happen if your aim was true and you killed me?"

A shrug. "Didn't think that far ahead. You'd be dead and that was all that mattered."

Negan nodded, completely understanding his logic as a feeling of affinity stole over him. Looks like he wasn't the only cold-hearted bastard in this world.

"How many people have you killed?"

A telling pause. And then...

"More than one."

Negan nodded. " _Two_ then. Okay, so you're no Son of Sam but you're no virgin either..."

"Negan..." Michonne interjected from her seat behind the desk but Negan held up his hand, not once taking his gaze from Carl. "Hush sweetheart. Just sit there, look pretty and keep your mouth _shut_."

Michonne's fists clenched and she would have given anything to have her sword back in her possession but she stayed silent.

Negan continued. "I've never met a killer so young before. How old are you anyway?"

"Fourteen."

Negan whistled again. "And how long ago did you take your first life?"

"A year ago."

Negan straddled the seat once again, Lucille dangling from his hands. "I like you kid. You had balls before you knew what to do with them and put 'em to good use. I wish you and I had met under different circumstances. You could have been an excellent addition to my ranks here. Hell..." Negan stroked his chin thoughtfully, "...maybe it's not too late. I could make you a lieutenant.."

"Negan, stop!" Michonne's heart raced as she followed Negan's thought process to a disturbing end.

Negan's dark gaze swiveled her way, anger lighting his eyes as he bared his teeth. "Last warning, Michonne. Do not make me do something you're going to regret, understand? .mouth. _shut_."

Michonne glared back at him and Negan felt the world right itself as she once again looked at him with loathing instead of fear.

"Okay, enough small talk. Let's get to the man to man part, okay? You came in here to kill me and instead killed Lucille." Negan once again held the bat up for Carl's viewing. "She's been with me since your Dad's new girlfriend over there kicked me to the curb, and has saved my ass more times than I can count. And for that, you need to pay. Understand?"

A silent glare from the teenager sitting across from him.

"Now there are a variety of methods of payment to choose from. I'll list them and we'll see if any jump out at you." Negan looked up to the ceiling as if in deep thought. "Let's see. We could destroy your hand so you can never shoot again."

No response. No flicker of fear.

"Oh I know! I could just chop off your trigger finger. This way you'd still have the rest of your hand to do domestic chores with the old ladies back home once your soldiering days are over."

Still no response. Kid was a tough nut to crack.

Negan looked over at Michonne, observing her rapid breathing and the fear that had entered her eyes. She was terrified for Carl and Negan was inspired. Turning back to the boy, he grinned, making sure to let the smile travel all the way to his eyes.

"I've got it! How about I take one of Michonne's fingers instead? This way no one can accuse me of hurting a child. Why I could ..."

"No! You stay away from her, do you hear me?! Stay away!" Carl shouted as he started to vault from his seat, towards Negan.

Negan dropped his bat and held out both hands to stop the boy from charging him as Michonne came from around the desk, shouting Carl's name.

As Negan looked down at the boy, he finally saw what he wanted to see. He had finally cracked through the veneer of anger and ice to see the fear underneath.

And the fear hadn't been for himself but for a woman he had just met.

Well, today was just full of surprises, wasn't it?

Shoving Carl back down into his chair, Negan allowed Michonne to crouch down next to the boy and whisper platitudes into his ear.

Just when he thought he had seen everything this shit filled world had to offer, a teenager arrives and turns that world upside down and sideways. He had to give credit where credit was due.

"I have to say, Carl, you have cajones to spare. You must have inherited the pair your daddy lost when he decided to go soft. You make sure to keep them, you hear? Don't let those big walls turn you into a woman, okay?"

Two gazes glared back at him and Negan laughed. Just as he was about to yell for dinner to be brought to his office, one of his guards knocked and then entered quickly. "Rick Grimes is at the gate."

Negan sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, ignoring the gasps from his guests.

"Of _course_ he is...because my day wasn't _quite_ complete. Tell him to get his ass in here and not to bother with the empty threats of 'bringing a war to your doorstep'" said in an exaggerated southern drawl. "I don't give a fuck. I've got his kid and his woman in here and I know he'd let me gut him and hang him up on the fence before he'd risk these two being hurt."

As the guard nodded and ran from the room, Negan strolled over to his leather chair and dropped into it with a chuckle, knowing Michonne and Carl were following his every move.

Always the showman, Negan leaned back into his chair, kicked his feet up to rest on his desk and clasped his hands on his stomach. Grinning at his silent guests, Negan gave them a jaunty wink.

"Now it's a party!"

 **Road Between Alexandria and The Sanctuary**

"She's going to be okay you know." Aaron reassured his silent companion as he and Jesus sat on the hood of the car, both the walkie talkie and portable HAM radio resting between them while they awaited orders from their leaders.

Jesus nodded as he stared in the direction of The Sanctuary, his hands clenching and unclenching with the need to do _something_ to help. Anything but just sit there and wait for instructions.

"I hope so. If anyone can handle Negan, it's Michonne. She knows how to get inside his head, always has, but I don't know. Her luck may be up."

Because Carl smuggling himself into Negan's community was a challenge none of them expected, certainly not Michonne. Jesus dropped his head, filled with worry for his friend and leader and for the teenager that thought he could take on a killer. Rick had instructed them to remain where they were in case his retrieval of Michonne and Carl went south, but Jesus hated just sitting and waiting. He was a man of action and his instincts were screaming for him to get in the car and make the five miles between them and The Sanctuary disappear.

"I haven't known Rick for as long as you've known Michonne but I can tell you this. I've never met a man so adept at survival and who would do absolutely anything to keep his loved ones safe. Rick isn't going to leave The Sanctuary without Michonne and Carl and, if Negan wants to live, he'll let them all go."

Jesus chuckled, amused in spite of himself at Aaron's optimism. "I hope you're right. Remember who we're talking about here. This is a man who let his two leaders die right in front of him and who has built his community by stealing from others and by killing when the mood struck. And Rick is on _his_ turf. So basically Negan is in control."

Aaron nodded as he stared into the distance and thought of the events of the past week. "Negan is in control but he also knows what will happen if he harms any of them."

Jesus turned his gaze to the tall man beside him, soothed by the quiet certainty in his tone. "And what is that?"

Aaron met his gaze head on, his face mere inches from his, and Jesus caught his breath at the determination lighting his blue eyes.

"Alexandria and Hilltop will bring a war to his doorstep and he'll know what real pain feels like."

Jesus' heart picked up its pace as he was reminded that Aaron was indeed a soldier as much as he was a recruiter and trusted advisor. Grateful for the distraction from his worry, Jesus quirked his lips into a small smile.

"Damn straight. He won't know what hit him."

Aaron returned the smile as both men once again gazed into the direction their leaders had traveled to, but this time a different, far more pleasant, tension filled the air.

 **The Sanctuary**

Michonne stood up and pulled one of the folding chairs over to where Carl was sitting, wanting to show a united front to Negan and wanting Rick to see them alive and well and together when he first came in that door.

The minutes that elapsed since the guard left to retrieve Rick dragged as a million thoughts raced through Michonne's mind. It didn't surprise her that Rick came for Carl but she worried that his fear for them both would cause him to act impulsively which would play right into Negan's hands.

And with that last thought, the door opened and Rick walked into the room, his holster empty and his eyes zeroing in on Michonne and Carl, relief causing him to expel a held breath as he saw they were uninjured.

"Hey Deputy! Welcome to our little meet and greet. Glad you could make it." Negan's voice cut through the silent communication between his newest visitor and his seated guests as he made his way around the desk to block Grimes' path towards his son.

"Why don't you take a seat over there and we'll have a little chat. How does that sound?"

 _Thank God they're okay._ As Rick sat in the chair at the small table, his heart slowed from the frantic pace it had set since he had first realized Carl had stowed away. His gaze traveled over Michonne, looking for injuries or any signs of distress and, seeing none, he finally met her gaze, reassured by the calm he saw there. She was fine. Thank God she was okay. Looking over at his son, he was upset to see him bound but otherwise he wasn't touched. Rick's eyes widened as he took in his son's exposed eye injury and swiveled his gaze to Negan, who loomed over them all.

"Did you take off his bandage?" Rick growled, his tone clearly accusatory as he imagined Negan taunting his son and humiliating him.

Negan's brows rose as he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Deputy! I can't believe you think I would do such a thing!" Chuckling, Negan leaned against his desk as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Actually, come to think of it, that's exactly the kind of thing I would do but, alas, little Mark Chapman, Jr. over here didn't give me the chance. He took it off on the ride over most likely."

At Negan's reference to a famous assassin, Rick swiveled his head back to his son and swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Carl..."

Negan sighed as he stood up and paced over to stand in front of Rick. "Let me give you the cliff's notes so we can wrap this up, okay? Little Carlito over here smuggled himself into my community and tried to put a bullet in my brain. Due to having shitty aim with the lack of an eye and all, he instead killed Lucille." Negan pointed to the battered bat in the corner. "He tried to finish the job..." Negan held a hand up to stage whisper to Rick, " _you might want to recruit for a therapist pronto...kid has anger issues.."_ And then continued in a normal tone, "But when he aimed again, your girlfriend threw herself in front of me and saved my life." Negan again placed his hand over his heart as he threw a grin Michonne's way. "I have to say I was touched."

Rick's fists clenched as he took in everything Negan had said. Today could have easily ended in disaster but instead, Michonne had risked her life to save Carl and Negan had decided, for whatever reason, to spare them both.

If they all made it out of here alive, Rick swore he would never let the two of them of his sight again.

Knowing there was a debt to be paid, Rick looked up and met Negan's gaze and, after a moment of silent communication between the men, Rick gave him a terse nod and Negan continued. "I have to say, if anyone else had tried to kill me, _in my courtyard_ , they would have been fed to my fences," referring to the walkers tied to the chain link fence surrounding his community, "but I have to say your boy impressed me. I even tried to recruit him to be one of my soldiers but I think he's still tied to your apron strings so that's a no go for now."

Negan straddled the chair next to Rick and changed his tone from jovial to all business. "Due to the entertainment value these two provided me this evening, well that and my lack of enthusiasm for a second war with your 4-H club and cul de sac soldiers, I'm willing to let them go." Holding up a hand to deter Rick from rising from his chair, Negan continued.

"I _will_ need payment for the irreparable damage done to poor Lucille, however."

Rick sat up straight in his chair, relief mixed with eagerness to leave this place infusing his tone with impatience. "What do you want?"

Negan smiled. "Three things." He held up a finger for each item on his list. "Equal say at the table for leading this war against the Freaks and Geeks. Extra provisions from the farmers to feed my people since they're the ones who are actually going to be doing most of the fighting and..." A dramatic pause as he sent a grin Rick's way. "Two of those fancy solar panels and the inverter boxes to go with them."

That was it? That was all Negan wanted as payment for his son trying to kill him? Rick didn't believe it for a second but he would say or do anything to get his family the hell out of there. Nodding his head, Rick replied with a terse, "Done."

Negan returned the nod and pulled out a small knife while walking over to Michonne and Carl. Rick stood up from his chair and Michonne tensed and looked ready to launch straight at Negan when he held up a hand and laughed. "Settle down sweetheart. I'm not about to take on three killers," a wink sent Carl's way as he lumped the teenager in with the grown-ups, "with a knife I took off of a dead accountant. Just springing the kid, that's all." And with that, Negan cut through the zip tie binding Carl's hands and backed away toward the door.

"Y'all can have your family reunion now. I'll be leaving since I don't want to lose my appetite and since I have to go reassure my community that I haven't gone soft. When the coast is clear, you'll be on your way."

Negan opened his door, revealing two armed guards in the hallway, then turned to face Carl once again. "Oh and kid? You're alive because you surprised me, which is rare these days, and I got a kick out of it. But you ever try that shit again and you'll watch your loved ones, _all of them_ , be beaten to death before you eat a bullet, got it?"

Carl nodded, the realization of what he had just survived finally sinking in as he swallowed hard.

Negan smiled, happy to see he finally made it past the boy's armor and struck him where it hurt. Giving the three visitors a jaunty salute, Negan left the room with a 'see ya at the next summit meeting!' and was finally gone.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Rick ran over to Carl and pulled him into his arms, squeezing him tight. "Thank God you're okay." As he drew away, Rick dipped his head to meet his son's gaze, letting him see all of the worry in his own. "What the hell were you thinking, coming here by yourself like that? You could have gotten killed! And you put Michonne at risk too. Didn't you think of that?"

Carl's eye filled became watery as the impact of his actions fully sank in. His reply was a ragged whisper. "I didn't think. All I cared about was protecting Michonne and killing Negan. I couldn't let him hurt her. I didn't think past killing him." With that, he turned to Michonne, whose own eyes were filling with tears, emotion from the day catching up with her.

"I'm sorry Michonne."

Michonne drew Carl into her embrace, her heart warming as she felt the boy's arms squeeze her tight in response. "I'm sorry too Carl. Sorry for all of this mess. Sorry for not taking the time to understand your fear before I left." Releasing the boy, she looked him straight in the eye as she continued. "But I have to say this. As wrong as your decision to come here was, I was _so proud_ of you today. You stood up to a killer and tyrant and didn't back down. Not for one minute. That kind of courage isn't learned, Carl, that's in _here,_ " She placed her hand over his heart, "and no one can take that away from you, do you hear me?"

Carl smiled and nodded, standing taller and straighter after hearing those encouraging words. Stealing a quick glance to his father, whose eyes were also blurred with pent up emotion, Carl walked over to him. "I'm sorry, Dad. I should have had faith that you and Michonne had things under control. I'll do better next time, I promise, okay?"

Rick's mouth curved his mouth into a small smile and nodded, proud of his son but still overwhelmed with the near miss they had all just experienced. His heart and soul were in this room and he was so incredibly grateful luck and the good mood of an unpredictable ally were on their side today.

As Carl glanced between Michonne and his Dad, the puzzle pieces of the last few days and their growing closeness came together and his lips curved into a small smile as he muttered something about looking out the window, leaving the two of them alone as he walked to the other side of the room.

Rick's gaze met Michonne's and the two of them moved in tandem to erase the space between them. As Rick drew her into the circle of his arms, he buried his face in her neck while Michonne burrowed hers into the hard wall of his chest.

He couldn't get close enough to her. As his arms tightened around her slender back, he realized just how defenseless she had been. One slim woman against a community of thugs and she had talked her way out of harm and had risked her own life to save his son's.

 _Again._

As Rick rubbed his hands up and down her back, reassuring himself that she was whole and healthy, he whispered in her ear. "You're okay? Are you really okay?" He felt her nod against his chest and his heart learned to beat in normal rhythm once again.

Michonne lifted her face and gave Rick a watery smile. "I'm really okay. Especially now that you're here." And with that, Michonne threaded her fingers through Rick's shaggy curls and stood on her toes to place her mouth over his, her lips curving into a smile as she felt herself lifted off her feet with Rick's enthusiastic response.

After several decadent moments of their mouths moving greedily over each other, Rick lifted his head and gazed into Michonne's beautiful dark eyes as he whispered, "I'm not spending another night away from you again. You know that, right?"

Michonne whispered back as joy filled her heart. "I know."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them were escorted by guards to the car Michonne had arrived in, their weapons returned to them, and they were released.

Negan did not see them off which was perfectly fine with Rick as he watched The Sanctuary grow smaller in his rearview mirror. He owed that man a debt which would make their future interactions more complicated as Negan had evened the score today.

He had killed Rick's best friend but he had also spared his son's life and let Michonne leave unharmed. And that was something Rick would never forget.

After directing Abraham via radio to meet them at the rendezvous point with the others, Rick filled Michonne and Carl in on the Whisperer attack and the fact that they had a new prisoner to interrogate. Looking at his quiet son in the back seat and then Michonne sitting next to him, Rick laid out his plan.

"The three of us are going to the Hilltop, since Michonne, you've been away from your community for too long and need to get back and Carl and I are going to stay with you. I will interrogate the prisoner using the radio with Glenn and Abraham in the room with him in Alexandria. Hopefully we'll get useful information and we can finalize our plan of attack. I'm going to ask Aaron to come back with us so he can mark up the alternate routes to the Whisperers' camp with Jesus and then we'll go from there, okay?"

Michonne nodded, grateful to turn over the reins of strategy over to Rick after the day she'd had. While she would have preferred to interrogate the prisoner in person, she was too selfish to give up Rick for that duty so they would just have to make this plan work.

"It'll be nice to see Lydia again. I hear she's been getting outside more so maybe she's getting better." Carl said as he gazed out the window, feeling a calm steal over him as he looked forward to returning to Michonne's community. There was something about being there that gave him peace and a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he had worth even after his injury.

And helping Lydia come back from her trauma was a big part of that.

 **Communication Room at The Hilltop**

Rick pushed the talk button, wanting to get this interrogation over with so he could spend more time with Michonne and Carl. They deserved it after the day they had.

"My name is Rick. I'm the leader of the community you're in right now. What's your name?"

"Mike."

"Okay, Mike. Have you been fed and given something to drink. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes I'm very comfortable and appreciate the hospitality."

"Great, you'll continue to get that hospitality if you cooperate and answer some questions. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me."

Rick looked over at Michonne with a raised brow. This was almost too easy, considering the guy had tried to kill him earlier in the day.

Maybe he'd start there.

"First question, Mike. Why'd you try to kill me and my friend earlier?"

"We were ordered to hunt for other communities and kill as many people as we could and then bring back their faces so our leader knew how successful we were."

That explained the three masks in the man's backpack. Shaking his head at the insanity of the orders, Rick continued.

"How many scouting parties were sent out?" This would test the man's honesty as they already knew there were five parties of five men sent out to scour the countryside.

"Five total."

"And how many were in each scouting party?"

"Five in each."

Rick looked at Michonne and she nodded, her eyes lighting up with excitement. They had a cooperative prisoner who was spilling everything. Fear was a huge motivator. Maybe they...

"Oh, wait a minute. I forgot about the scouting party with the daughter."

What?

"Yeah, that one had six, not five."

What the _hell_? Rick sat forward in his chair, willing the miles to disappear so he could look the man in the eye while they spoke.

"Explain, Mike. _Please_."

"Well, I heard that that group was being tested by our leader. They were asked to do something more than just hunt and kill..."

 _Lydia's assault._

"So Alpha sent one of her trusted soldiers to track them without them knowing so he could report back to her that they accomplished their mission."

Rick heard Michonne gasp behind him as the meaning of what the man was saying sunk in. His heart racing, Rick needed confirmation of this worst case scenario.

"Mike, can you confirm that this tracker did not travel _with_ the scouting party? With Alpha's daughter?"

"Right, he tracked them while they hunted others. He's good at that so they wouldn't know he was there unless he made himself known."

"What's this tracker's name Mike?"

"Sid."

Michonne turned to Jesus, frantic worry in her eyes. "Get Lydia in here. Now!"

As Jesus ran from the room, Rick continued his questioning, asking Mike what areas the various scouting parties were supposed to cover but the Whisperer wasn't much help, adding only that they were told to spread out and cover the area outside of D.C. because Alpha had her eye on moving their community to the nation's capital.

Running his hand through his hair in frustration as worry stole over him, Rick asked one last question before ending the transmission.

"Mike, I gotta ask. Why are you being so cooperative?"

"My younger sister is one of Alpha's servants. She's only twenty years old and is terrified every single day. I've been looking for an opportunity to find other people, other communities that may have a shot at fighting Alpha so my sister and I can escape and have a place to live. If we had just run, her soldiers would have hunted us down and skinned us."

 _Thank God for fear_ , Rick thought just as Jesus returned with Lydia and Carl, both teenagers looking extremely worried.

"Thanks for your cooperation, Mike. Abraham, escort Mike back to his cell and make sure he's comfortable and well fed. _No_ glass, okay?"

"Roger that."

Ending the call, Rick swiveled in his seat in time to watch Michonne crouch down in front of a nervous Lydia who had just taken the seat next to him, her eyes darting between the two adults, most likely wondering what was going on.

Michonne laid a reassuring hand on Lydia's arm before speaking. "Lydia, Rick just spoke with one of the scouts from your community. He's being held in a cell in Alexandria and he provided us some helpful information but it's a bit worrying."

Lydia's eyes widened and her fingers trembled as they rested on her lap. "What did he say?"

Michonne squeezed Lydia's arm. "He said there was a sixth member of your group who hung back to observe the men to make sure they did what they had been assigned to do."

"What? We only killed the five that were with me that day! Where did he go? _Who is he_?" Lydia's face turned to Carl, as if seeking reassurance, her eyes filling with panic.

Rick leaned forward and in a low, soothing tone replied, "His name is Sid and our prisoner said he's one of Alpha's trusted soldiers."

The chair Lydia had been sitting in fell backward as she jumped up and paced the room with her hands covering her mouth while her head shook back and forth in denial.

"No! It can't be. Oh God...it was almost _two weeks_ ago. No, no, _no_..."

Michonne walked over to Lydia and laid her hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing. Dipping her head to look into the girls' wide eyes, she also used a low tone, even though she knew Lydia was too far gone to be calmed. "Lydia, who is Sid? Why does he have you so worried?"

"Beta. He's _Beta_."

"Who?"

Lydia took a deep breath and looked Michonne directly in the eyes, desperate to make her point. "Sid is _Beta_ , my mother's second in command. He's our best tracker and he's _completely loyal_ to her. The day I killed those men and your people rescued me, he would have tracked us here, to Hilltop." She took a fortifying gulp of air that was part sob and continued. "He would have watched this place, studied it for weaknesses, studied everyone from a spot in the woods where he wouldn't be discovered and then he would have reported back to Alpha."

Michonne willed herself not to indulge in panic as she tried to present a calm facade to the trembling girl before her but it was a struggle as she internalized what Lydia had just shared with her. Looking down at the girl once more, Michonne gave her a reassuring smile. "You are safe here, Lydia. You're in a big house behind big walls and we have armed guards. They're not going to get you, okay? You have to believe that."

Lydia shook her head as she looked over to Carl. "I'm so sorry. You're all in danger now, don't you see? All of you! They're going to kill you to get to me and then they're going to bring me back to Alpha!"

Carl walked over to the crying girl and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. "We've fought worse, Lydia, don't worry. Let's go sit over there in the corner while my dad and Michonne figure things out okay? Look, there are comfortable chairs with a lamp right over there, okay?"

And with that, Carl led the crying girl away.

Michonne picked up the chair that had fallen and gestured for Jesus to come close so they could speak quietly. "It's very possible everything Lydia said is true. Beta could have followed our people back here and he could very easily have spied on us for days without us knowing. We're surrounded by woods and haven't patrolled them since clearing the mountain a year ago and putting the walls up."

Rick nodded. "And then he could have reported all of his intel back to Alpha and possibly have time to plan an attack on this place. Enough time has gone by." He lowered his voice to a frantic whisper. "We were counting on them taking much longer to find any of our communities since the area is so big but this Beta guy was led right here from day one."

Michonne looked at Jesus and he nodded without even being asked. "I'll double the sentries at each corner of the perimeter. We'll work shifts and be on high alert."

Michonne nodded but her heart thudded as a sixth sense told her it wouldn't be enough. They had the daughter of a lunatic cult leader who could control the dead. Was it already too late for them to form a defense?

Standing up, Michonne gestured for Rick to follow her while asking Jesus to stay behind with the kids. Walking quickly out of the communications room, Michonne raced to her office, grabbing her binoculars off of her desk and ran to the French doors that exited to the second story portico. Throwing them open, Michonne walked to the railing but, before she could place the binoculars against her eyes, she noted there was a new moon in the sky.

Which meant no light to expose any possible attack coming from the woods.

Pressing the binoculars against her eyes, Michonne scanned the tree line, looking for any movement at all but she saw nothing but the inky black of night.

"Michonne, _listen_." Rick's raspy whisper sounded in her ear as she lowered the binoculars and listened to the night sounds.

There! Over the crickets and the rustling leaves, she could hear it. Faint but growing stronger. And it was spread out before them.

Moans. The awful moans of the dead. Michonne shook her head. _It couldn't be! The dead can't climb_.

But they could find a gradual, gentle path if they were _led_. Led by a man who was an expert tracker.

Michonne turned to Rick, meeting his worried gaze with her own.

"They're here."

 **A/N: Phew! Carl and Michonne made it out of The Sanctuary but their respite didn't last long because they now have visitors. What, you didn't think I'd slow things down now did you? Nope, this is the final rush towards the finish line everyone. Hold on for the ride! Your thoughts on this story are always welcome!**


	14. Raid

**Sorry for the long wait between updates! Real life was killer these past few weeks.**

 **Recap: Dwight is in the Whisperer's camp, Michonne and Carl made it out of The Sanctuary unscathed and the Whisperers with their army of dead arrived at Hilltop!**

 _We live today because of what our parents, grandparents and great grandparents fought for in those early days. We thrive today because of sacrifice, courage, and the instinct for survival that those before us used to carve out a new world out of the ashes of the old one._

 _What will we do with the gift they gave us? Will we protect it? Care for it? And never forget?_

 _We must. It's the only way._

 **Whisperers' Camp**

As Dwight set up his shelter with the small section of tarp he had been allotted, his eyes surveyed the camp once again. He noted that the unmasked residents lived on the outer rim of the community and were therefore most vulnerable to attack while Alpha and her highest ranking soldiers, her trusted inner circle, lived in the center. Alpha's shelter was the only fully enclosed building in the community and was guarded every minute of the day.

Hammering the poles into the ground, Dwight's mind worked quickly as he tried to make sense of his new home. Other than the obvious hierarchy and their primeval way of life, he could practically smell the fear emanating from the servant class and noted the skittish behavior of the young women who gave the masked soldiers wide berth as they performed their menial tasks. Negan had told him that Alpha used rape as a control tactic and Dwight's stomach churned as he observed clear signs of its aftermath throughout the camp.

He was fairly certain this was one of Dante's Circles of Hell come to life above ground.

Spreading the tarp over the poles, Dwight remembered one of the lessons he had learned while living at The Sanctuary. There were always snitches in every community. People looking for a way out or a way in and who used information as currency. Using his long hair as a shield, Dwight scanned the outer rim until his gaze stopped on a slender older man crouched before a small fire. The man was making a point of looking busy but the stiff set of his shoulders and his darting gaze told Dwight a different story. The man was watching and listening. He was alert, on edge and very, very aware.

 _Time to make a new friend_ , Dwight decided as he tucked his few belongings under the tarp and made a show of looking for wood for his personal campfire. And with the clock ticking quickly, he hoped his instinct didn't steer him wrong.

 **Hilltop**

After hearing the Whisperer army approach from the cover of trees, Michonne and Rick calculated that they had less than fifteen minutes to form a defense strategy before being attacked. After yelling for all of the torches lit at the walls to be doused in order to slow the march, Michonne instructed Laura to send out an S.O.S. to The Sanctuary and Alexandria, even though she had little hope they would make it in time to be of any help. She and Rick then quickly explained the situation to Carl and Lydia and Michonne then asked Tom to move the teenagers to the library as Lydia quickly became hysterical at the thought of Beta being so close and she couldn't take the time to console her.

With Jesus, Aaron, Jim, Maddy and her other top fighters gathered in her office, Michonne laid out the initial plans she had worked out in the last few minutes. She spoke quickly as there was no time to waste.

"The Whisperers are here. Rick and I heard the moans of the dead coming from the south woods which means they're headed for our front gates. Due to the new moon, we have no idea how many we're dealing with but estimate at least a hundred dead ones from the sound of it and most likely a couple dozen Whisperers to herd them. The humans will be wearing masks so there is no way to pick them out unless you're right on top of them, especially in the dark."

Glancing over at Rick, she took solace in his steady gaze and continued.

"Jim and Maddy, I need you to gather all of our archers and put the best ones on each platform. They'll need to be ready to shoot when they have clear shots." Her two soldiers nodded in response.

A deep breath as she got to the hard part. Turning to Rick, she continued after his terse nod as they had discussed the plan on their walk from the portico. "The rest of us will have to go outside the gates to fight as we absolutely cannot allow our walls to fall. We'll all have guns but will have to use them sparingly as we'll be fighting blind."

Silence rang in the large room as everyone took a minute to let the gloomy reality sink in. They were fighting an army of unknown numbers in the dark and they had mere minutes to prepare. There was a chance some of them wouldn't make it past the next hour, let alone live to see another sunrise. As everyone exchanged quiet glances with one another, Rick spoke at last.

"I know this isn't the way we all want to fight but you're prepared for this. I've seen your set up and I've watched you all train. You're soldiers and you can do this. Michonne and I will be out there with you and together we'll stop these assholes from getting in. Got it?"

As her people nodded, Michonne was gratified to hear murmurs of agreement fill the silent void and grasped Rick's hand to give it a grateful squeeze before turning to give her people one last order.

"They came here to kill us, don't ever forget that. We'll respond in kind."

Michonne looked at each of her fighters in the eye, wanting them to see the certainty in hers.

"They all die tonight. We want bodies on the ground and no prisoners. We do that and our jobs tomorrow just got a whole lot easier."

As the group dispersed, Rick pulled Michonne aside to whisper in her ear. "I'll meet you at the front gate in five minutes. I have to make sure Carl and Lydia are safe, okay?"

Michonne nodded. "Five minutes."

Rick dipped his head to meet her gaze, his eyes serious but lit with the fire she knew always resided within him. "You don't take a step out of that gate without me next to you, you hear? We do this together."

Michonne smiled, "I wouldn't have it any other way. Now go see to the kids."

With that, Rick ran to the library while Michonne made her way to the courtyard, Jesus and Aaron following closely behind her.

Nodding at Tom, who stood sentry outside the library door, Rick walked in and made his way to the two teenagers sitting quietly by the fireplace at the end of the room, Lydia's cries having settled to quiet rapid breaths. Crouching by the kids, Rick kept his voice low and even. "We're going to keep them outside the gates, I promise. You two are safe in here. Tom is standing guard outside and I'm locking the door behind me. Lydia, look at me." Rick waited until the girl raised terrified eyes to his, needing to reduce the burden his son would be left with once he exited the room.

"Beta isn't going to make it past that gate. We've got the firepower and the soldiers to keep him and his walkers out there where they belong. Just stay here, keep the lights off and you'll be safe, okay?"

Lydia stared at Rick for several long moments, her eyes filled with knowledge of dark things that Rick couldn't even begin to understand but now wasn't the time for counseling. He needed her to be calm and clear headed. Finally she nodded and murmured 'okay' in response.

Carl smiled reassuringly at Lydia and then turned to Rick, his gaze serious but filled with certainty that they would make it through this. He said as much to his dad when he responded with a small smile. "We'll be fine Dad. I won't leave her side, I promise. Now go do what you have to do."

Rick clasped his son's shoulder and squeezed, proud of the man Carl was quickly becoming and then he jogged from the room, making sure to hear the lock click behind him as he shut the door.

As he ran down the hallway towards the door to the courtyard, his heart picked up pace as adrenaline raced through his body. While he had fought many battles since the world had gone to hell, this was the first one he'd fought for someone else's home. And he vowed that Michonne's home wouldn't fall tonight.

Not tonight. Not _ever_.

 **The Whisperer's Camp**

"It took me a month before I earned a tarp. You must have made a hellava first impression." Roy, Dwight's new best friend, muttered around the beef jerky that Dwight shared with him as the two men sat together around Roy's fire, the moans of their 'fence' drowning out the night sounds around them. Dwight leaned back against the tree trunk, assuming a relaxed pose as he lured the older man into easy conversation.

"I had just killed a buck when her recruiter found me so I guess that's how I bought my way in here. You have a big community. Lots of mouths to feed so..."

"So a hunter would immediately be of value. Lucky you. Not as much use for a math teacher around here. I got assigned to latrine duty day one and haven't been able to get a better job other than shoveling shit and moving piss around."

Dwight kept his expression neutral even as revulsion sent a shiver down his spine. These people were living a very primitive existence and Dwight wondered how exactly Alpha kept her large community under such tight control. Who would choose to live here?

Stealing a glance at Roy, Dwight took a leap of faith that providing the man with a food source made a big first impression. "Have you ever thought of just packing up and leaving? Take your chances out on the road again?"

Roy jerked his gaze from the fire over to Dwight, his mouth open slightly and his eyes wide. Shaking his head as if to clear it, Roy responded. "I forget that you just arrived. Haven't learned the ropes yet." Looking around, Roy saw that the nearest soldiers were towards the center of the community, leaving them alone for the most part. Standing up slowly, Roy beckoned for Dwight to follow him.

After walking a hundred or so yards towards to the other end of the camp, Roy stopped and gazed out into the darkness, his expression carefully blank. Finally, he pointed his hand toward the tree about twenty feet away and tilted the perimeter torch in that direction to light the image up for Dwight.

There was a body bolted to the tree with iron stakes through the wrists and ankles. Dwight couldn't tell if the body had once been a man or woman due to the level of decomposition. But he could tell one terrible, revolting thing...

It had been skinned from head to toe and Dwight would bet that the person had been skinned while still alive.

"That was the last person who tried to 'pack up and leave'. They were caught two miles down the road and brought back here to be made an example of. Alpha believes that once you're part of the pack, you're _always_ part of the pack. Loyalty is everything to her. She commands it. And if you don't feel like giving it to her?" Roy shot Dwight a quick glance, knowledge of his own inevitable end clear in his empty stare. "She'll make sure you don't last long enough to give it to someone else."

Dwight swallowed as the magnitude of his mission settled in. How does one become indispensable to a psychopathic megalomaniac in a matter of a few short days?

Closing his eyes against the horror before him, he sent a quick prayer up and out to the universe as a miracle was definitely needed.

 **Hilltop**

Standing next to Rick on the top of one of the gate platforms, Michonne watched the Whisperers approach her community, their slow progress now visible as she could see the small beams of light thrown off by flashlights from their soldiers, luring the dead forward towards her walls.

Her archers were positioned at the top of the platforms at the front of her community, arrows notched onto the strings of their bows and ready to let fly.

"It's time. We gotta go." Rick whispered to Michonne, hearing the moans coming closer and knowing that if they waited too long, they'd be picked off as they exited through the main gate over the drawbridge.

Michonne nodded. Turning to Maddy and Jim, she met both their gazes, reassured by their determination and lack of fear. "You know what to do. Wait for my signal, okay?"

"We know. Good luck." Jim replied as he watched the two leaders descend the ladder.

As the large group of soldiers gathered at the gate, Michonne took one last look up at her people manning their watch points and was confident they all understood their jobs and would perform them admirably when needed.

Speaking in a low tone, she repeated the plan. "We fight in formation. Do not break rank and go off by yourself. No matter what, you stay with your group. We try for head shots when they're available so we get the living and the dead but, if our only option is something else, we do what we have to do. Fight hard, stay together and _stay alive_."

Her group nodded, their expressions resolute, a gun in one hand and a melee weapon in the other. Michonne nodded at her gatekeeper who opened the gate and lowered the bridge with a tug of the rope system.

Rick grabbed Michonne's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "We'll win."

Michonne squeezed back. "We will."

And as the drawbridge fell to the ground, they ran off to battle the dead and the monsters who controlled them.

 **Hilltop Library**

Carl looked across the small table at Lydia huddled in the large leather chair near the fireplace and wished he had words that could reassure her but he couldn't lie. Alpha's second in command was right outside this community and he had come here to bring her back. And while he had confidence Michonne and his Dad would hold them back, Lydia didn't know that. All she knew was that her mother had found her.

And that must feel like a nightmare come true.

Carl's thoughts were interrupted as he realized Lydia was saying something under her breath as she twisted her long hair nervously around her finger and pulled her knees in close to her chest with her free arm.

"What did you say?"

She didn't look up but spoke a bit louder the second time around. "Beta can't go back without me. He will refuse to fail his leader. He's going to keep fighting until he takes me from this place. And then Alpha is going to make an example of me."

Carl got up from his seat and crouched in front of Lydia, awkwardly patting her arm in comfort. "Lydia, listen to me. Remember what Michonne told you. You're in a room in a huge house behind walls and you're protected by soldiers who know what they're doing. No one is going to get you in here. I promise."

Lydia's stark gaze lifted to meet Carl's and he swallowed at the resignation he saw there. "Oh Carl, you don't know him. You don't know my mother. She would have told him not to return without me. And I'm putting you and your Dad and..." she stopped as she choked back a sob, "Michonne at risk because of my selfishness. I..."

Carl squeezed Lydia's arm as he interrupted her self-loathing. "Michonne and my Dad would never allow you to leave these gates. _Never_. So get that idea out of your head. They've built an alliance with each other and with Negan to win this war against Alpha. This is just the first battle. A battle that would have happened anyway. At least here we have walls and our weapons so we'll win it." Carl dipped his head to meet her gaze once again.

"We'll win. You and I have to just wait it out here like Michonne told us to. It will be over before you know it."

Lydia swiped at the few tears that trickled down her cheeks as she glanced at Carl and then looked off into the distance as she whispered absently. "That's what I'm afraid of, Carl. That's what I'm afraid of."

 **The Battle**

As their group ran through the gate and over the bridge, Michonne drew her sword and kept her pistol holstered, knowing that she needed two hands to do the most damage. With fifty yards or so until they crossed the Whisperers, the Hilltop soldiers jogged quietly through the inky darkness. They knew their mission and they had their back up behind them ready to fire.

As they drew closer, Rick could make out the rotted flesh of the walkers the Whisperers were using as the front line. From what he could tell, there were dozens of them being herded slowly toward the fence.

And hidden amongst them were living, breathing armed soldiers who could fire a bullet at any moment.

They had to take control of this fight quickly or it was very possible they would lose people and that was something Rick couldn't allow. He wanted no more deaths on his watch. _No more_. With Michonne and two more soldiers in formation with him, their backs to each other, Rick drew his machete and slashed at the walker in front of him, then swung his arm over his head to hack at two more drawn his way by the movement.

As her sword slashed and cut in methodical movements, Michonne's heart beat steadily as she cleared her mind of anything but the immediate need to clear this field of threat to her home. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jesus and Aaron fight back to back with their group, using their booted heels to kick at the dead while slashing with their knives.

They could do this. They just had to stay in formation and keep their cool.

All of a sudden, several arms raised up from the middle of the herd and, in tandem, threw what looked to be molotov cocktails in the air. Michonne's eyes widened as she continued to hack and slash around her.

 _They were going for the fence. They knew the fence was made of wood._

Just as that thought raced through her mind, Michonne heard the impact of the three ignited bottles hit the fence behind her and felt the warmth of the flames at her back. She heard Rick mutter an expletive but he remained focused on the dead in front of them as he knew, like she did, that they couldn't afford to get distracted.

Within seconds the flames were doused by the buckets of water positioned on the fence platforms and Michonne could hear Maddy and Jim shout for more. As the dead fell to the ground from their attack, Michonne knew that they would get to the humans very soon and then the real battle would begin.

"How you doing back there?" Jesus asked in a low tone as he impaled a dead one in the skull and kicked it aside with his boot.

"Just walkers so far but I have a feeling things are about to get interesting." Aaron responded as his hunting knife stabbed through the rotted jaw and then into the brain of the walker before him.

As soon as he spoke, four more flaming bottles hurled themselves towards the fence, exciting the walkers on the front lines as the flames lit the night sky. Taking advantage of the momentary light, Aaron scanned his immediate area and met the eyes of a Whisperer hidden behind the walker to his immediate right.

"They're here. Be alert." Aaron warned his group while he put down the walker between him and the Whisperer and, watching the human raise his gun, shot off his _own_ gun, putting a bullet between the man's eyes, eyes that had been masked behind the flesh of the dead.

Aaron knew he'd never get that image out of his mind for as long as he lived.

Rick quickly surveyed the area before the flames behind him were doused and he could see at least a dozen, possibly more, Whisperers jogging up the field behind the walkers and, assuming those soldiers had guns, knew they had a battle on their hands.

 _They had to hold the line for just another minute or so_ , Michonne thought as the smell of burned wood wafted through the air behind her. She knew the Whisperers were approaching and getting closer to her fence. They were using the dead as their shield in the darkness as the dead hunted by smell and didn't need to see their prey.

What the Whisperers may not have counted on was that Michonne and Rick and their soldiers had been fighting the dead for two years in dark corners of buildings, alley ways and forests, and their instincts had been so fine tuned that killing could be done by muscle memory at this point. All it took was a slight moan or a slow shuffling footstep to raise a knife or sword and put the dead down.

As Michonne dropped the body that had just reached out to her, she caught a shadowy movement that was deliberate and very human and knew that the man Aaron had killed was part of the front line of Whisperers and the rest of his group was now upon them.

It was time.

 _"Light it up!"_

Within a second of Michonne's command, fifteen huge torches were ignited at the top of the fence platforms, lighting up the field for fifty yards. As expected, the dead were immediately drawn to the bright light and quickly made their way to the fence dropping into the deep trenches and left to flail their arms helplessly, their groans filling the night air.

With the shield neutralized, the Whisperers drew their weapons, their masked faces giving them the look of a ghoulish army, the stuff of nightmares.

But they were still humans and humans didn't need head shots to be neutralized. Lifting her arm and waving it in a circle, Michonne signaled her archers who immediately rained down a dozen arrows into the lit field, bringing down several Whisperers, some with arrows through the eyes and others with injuries that crippled them but left them groaning on the grass as they fell.

While her archers reloaded, Rick, Michonne and the ground soldiers, fired their guns, taking down more Whisperers, but as a few of the masked soldiers fired back, Michonne knew they would soon realize losses if they didn't end the battle quickly.

Rick shouted as he took the lead. "Spread out and keep moving. Fire everything you've got!" As the group moved out of formation to present smaller, moving targets for the Whisperer shooters, they fired their weapons, trying to put down as many of the enemy as they could while remaining out of the archers' way.

Just as another shower of arrows rained down, taking out several more Whisperers, a roar came out of the woods as a few dozen more masked soldiers sprinted toward them, weapons raised.

Rick and Michonne shared concerned glances with each other.

 _Shit just got real._

 **The Hilltop Library**

"What was your favorite subject in school?" Carl quietly asked Lydia as they both sat in the dark behind the leather chairs near the fireplace. They could hear the battle raging outside and with each shout, Lydia squeezed her eyes shut tighter and drew her knees into her chest until she was a small, very still ball of fear.

As Carl watched her withdraw into herself, he knew in his gut that this wasn't the first time she had tried to escape brutality and horror around her and he didn't even want to try to imagine what she had been subjected to at her camp. What her mother's sick rule had exposed her to.

While he was helpless to make her forget what she had already seen and heard, he would do everything to distract her from the night's events that he could and he would think of any kind of small talk to get it done.

When Lydia didn't answer, Carl filled the silence with his soft chatter. "I loved Science the most because it was a little bit like solving a mystery each time. Why do things happen? How do things work a certain way or evolve a certain way? And there is always an answer. That always made me feel good. To find that answer."

As he spoke, his quiet voice filling the silence of the large room, Carl noticed Lydia's rapid breathing slow down and, eventually, she lifted her face from the arms clasping her knees and met his gaze, her eyes angry. "Where's the answer now, Carl, huh? Why did our world get taken away?" Her anger quickly diffused as her questions ended on a choked sob and she closed her eyes once more. After taking several deep breaths, Lydia opened her eyes once again and gave Carl a long, sad look as she replied to his question in a low voice.

"I loved Language Arts. Reading and writing. I loved books, any and all kinds."

Carl nodded and gave her a small smile, encouraging her to continue.

Lydia let her gaze travel through the large library, knowing it was filled floor to ceiling with books, even if they were currently hidden in the shadow of darkness. She knew that this was her favorite room at Hilltop because it gave her the refuge she desperately needed.

"I read the Harry Potter books, loved Mark Twain and Louisa May Alcott. I hardly watched any TV growing up because it could never be better than what I could see in my mind when I read my books. And then..."

When Lydia inhaled a shaky breath and the hands loosely clasped around her knees clenched into fists, Carl gently prodded.

"And then?"

Lydia moved her gaze from the room to Carl once again, defeat filling her light eyes. "Then the world ended and my mother made sure I never read a book again. She said books were no longer part of our world and that each day we were to focus on getting stronger by hunting and living off of the land. Games and entertainment were for the weak that wanted to live in the past."

 _Oh Lydia._ However difficult Carl's life had been since everything changed, and it had been very, very hard, he always had at least one parent who supported him, protected him and made him feel loved. Lydia had had none of that. She had been forced to learn this new world with a parent who had turned her back on her and had made her life a living hell.

Carl swore he would do whatever he could to make sure Lydia had a good, full life from here on out. That she would learn to smile and laugh again, even if it was in between the battles they would always have to wage with the dead.

"Lydia, I..."

Suddenly Lydia sat up straight against the wall and stared towards the floor to ceiling windows, her eyes widening. "Carl..." she whispered urgently, "I...I read out there..." a shaking finger pointed to the french doors leading out to the second story portico. "I read out there all day long these past couple of days, ever since you gave me that advice to get fresh air."

Carl turned his head to look over at the glass doors, his brows lowering in concern. If Beta had been scouting and spying on Hilltop, he would have seen Lydia outside of the library.

But Beta was out there fighting wasn't he?

Ignoring Lydia's frantic whisper for Carl to remain hidden behind the chairs, he got up and made his way over to the windows, anxious to see the vantage point Beta would have been spying from. Just as he approached the window and realized that the part of the perimeter wall right outside the library was the opposite side of the community from where the battle took place, there was a loud shatter down the hallway as a window broke and Tom, their guard ran to inspect.

"Oh God! He's here, I know he's here!" Lydia exclaimed in a soft sob as she rocked back and forth from her hiding spot, her fingers gripping her long hair as fear overcame her.

Carl swung his head toward the fireplace. "Lydia, be quiet! Just stay where you are and don't make a sound!" Carl's harsh whispered demand echoed through the library as he made his way to the door. Just as he went to grip the knob, he froze as he heard it rattle and then backed into the wall as the door groaned and flew open with the force of a strong shoulder battering the old wood.

The boogeyman was indeed real and he was now in the room with them.

 **The Battle**

"Archers, get ready! There's more of them coming. Keep them back!" Michonne shouted as she ran towards the nearest Whisperer, stabbing the masked shoulder in the throat and then again in the base of the skull to keep him down. Guns went off all around her and she saw several of her people go down with injuries but so far, nothing fatal.

"Michonne, we need cover. We have to get back behind the fence and fight from the platforms!" Rick yelled from his place a few feet from her as he fired off three rounds in rapid succession, his bullets finding their home in the heads of their enemies.

As her archers did their best to put down the second wave of attackers, Michonne shouted for Maddy and Jim to lower the drawbridge.

And the bridge bounced as it hit the heads of the writhing pile of the undead stuck in the trenches in front of the fence. When it stopped bouncing, it was elevated four feet off of the ground, making it impossible to be used as a quick getaway but instead serve as a target for them to be picked off one by one as they tried to climb back inside.

"Michonne! Aaron and I will cover you and Rick. Get inside _now_!" Jesus yelled as he fired off several rounds into the oncoming crowd of Whisperers, his free arm frantically waving her in.

Shaking her head, Michonne shouted back, "No, we all fight. Together!" She and Rick exchanged glances, the emotion in their gazes saying words that they hadn't yet had the chance to speak.

They would fight for her home and if it was the last thing they did on this earth, they would do it together.

As arrows rained down around them from her archers, the second wave of Whisperers, fresh and ready for a fight ran towards them, their cries and shouts unearthly sounding in the night air.

Just as the wave was within range to do real injury to the Hilltop soldiers, their shouts were overcome with the loud revving of engines as headlights of motorcycles lit up the field and the sound of automatic gunfire, the most beautiful sound Michonne had heard in a long time, joined in.

The cavalry had arrived.

Twenty or more motorcycles, driven by Negan and his men wove deftly and with deadly precision through the group of Whisperers as the passengers on the motorcycles, many of whom were _Rick's people_ , fired their weapons, dropping the enemy in a wave of destruction.

Sharing a relieved grin with Rick, Michonne dropped her pistol and drew the rifle slung over her back into aiming position, picking off the masked intruders with precision now that she had time to do so.

"Adios assholes!" Abe shouted as he sprayed the Whisperer army with bullets from his machine gun, cackling with glee from the back of Stevie's motorcycle and winking at Heath who was doing the same from the back of another Savior's bike.

And Negan? Well Negan was a veritable Angel of Death in his black leather jacket. His dark gaze promising an afterlife of hell as he descended upon Whisperer after Whisperer with his battered barbed wire bat, smashing skull after skull and leaving carnage all over the lit field.

Within ten minutes, there wasn't a Whisperer soldier left alive as the Saviors, Alexandrians and Hilltop soldiers methodically put down any of the injured ones with knives or swords through the skulls.

As her people worked together to get the drawbridge down in order to carry the injured Hilltop soldiers inside, Michonne walked over to Negan and held out her hand, Rick following closely behind her. Returning his hunting knife to his sheath and resting his bat against his shoulder, Negan looked at Michonne with a raised brow and a small smile.

"Thank you Negan. You got here just in time. I owe you."

" _We_ owe you." Rick added in a rasp from her side.

Negan's smile grew as he moved his gaze between his allies, liking the position of hero for a change, even if it was for a brief moment.

As Negan shook Michonne's hand, he replied, "My pleasure sweetheart. We got your S.O.S. and picked up the Deputy's people while they were dragging their slow asses up the hill on foot. Made sense to tag team the freaks to get the job done."

Rick swallowed his pride as it had no place on this dark field where Michonne and he could have very much met their end and instead were uninjured and able to face another day because of the man standing before them.

He held out his hand and waited for his sworn enemy to take it.

Negan stared at the hand held out to him and wondered if the devil was getting his winter coat on because hell had indeed frozen over. Unable to turn this into a lovefest, Negan got his dig in as he clasped Grimes' hand in his.

"To be clear, I did it for her, not you. You were lucky to be glued by her side like you always are, that's all."

Rick nodded as he shook Negan's hand. "I know but I'm still grateful. I'll make sure to return the favor someday, I promise."

Negan rolled his eyes, "The day I need a redneck cop to save my ass is the day I hang up the bat but I appreciate the offer." Looking around, Negan took in the herd of the dead trapped in the trenches.

"Jeeesus...your moat just got nasty real quick darlin'...no rest for the weary tonight..." Just as Negan unsheathed his knife to start putting down the corpses, a shrill scream pierced through the air.

A young girl's scream.

Michonne and Rick looked at each other as Michonne's eyes widened. "Lydia!"

And the three leaders took off in a sprint towards the house.

 **The Hilltop Library**

 _You're a tiny ball. No one can see you. Don't breathe. Don't move and they'll go away._

The words that Lydia had said to herself each time in camp when events turned bad and Alpha looked for her in order to force her to witness torture or an execution were the words she repeated in her head over and over again as she huddled behind the chair in the dark.

She could hear the heavy breathing of the large man, her mother's lieutenant and second in command, her most trusted advisor.

 _Lydia's worst nightmare._

"Lydia sweetheart, I know you're in here. I'm not going to hurt you. Your mother misses you and wants you home safe. I've come to take you home were you belong. By your mother's side."

As Beta walked across the room, Lydia squeezed her eyes shut and started rocking in place, memories of her mother sitting her down in her enclosed shelter washing over her. Memories of Alpha's calm gaze scrutinizing Lydia from head to toe as she told her that, at fifteen, she was almost ready for marriage. She was almost a woman and once she married, she would bear future generations of leaders as her husband learned to lead their community side by side with Alpha.

Lydia was betrothed to the man who now stalked her in the pitch black library. The thirty five year old man who was a muscled giant, who never smiled, never laughed and who killed on demand for the only woman he loved and admired. The woman he wanted above all others.

Alpha.

"Alpha has a new job waiting for you when you get home, sweetheart. We found a truckload of books on one of our runs and she's decided to set up a library. We're building a shelter for it right now at this very moment. It will be all ready for you when you come home. You can spend your days cataloging books and no one will bother you..."

Shaking her head no while holding her hands over her ears to shut out the lies, Lydia stopped her rocking and focused on being very quiet and very still even though she knew it was fruitless to try to be invisible.

Beta was their best tracker. Their best hunter. And he always brought home what Alpha demanded. He'd never returned empty handed before and he certainly wouldn't tonight.

Opening her eyes, Lydia calmly removed the hands covering her ears as she got up on her knees. Just as she was about to stand up, the chair she hid behind was thrown to the side as Beta loomed over her, his blunt featured face hidden behind a dead man's mask.

She could hear his smile even as it remained invisible to her gaze.

"There you are! Now be a good girl and no one else gets hurt okay?"

Just then, Beta let out a shout as his legs buckled and he fell to the floor, Carl withdrawing the knife he had embedded into the back of his knee and dodging out of the way of Beta's long muscled arms. Howling with rage, Beta struggled to his feet but, before he could turn, Carl stabbed him again in his back, burying his knife deep and leaving it there as Beta swiveled, blindly reaching out to grab the teenager who deftly moved back.

As Beta lurched forward with murderous intent, yelling obscenities and promises of tearing Carl apart, Lydia screamed at the top of her lungs, grabbed a metal, unlit lantern and swung it at Beta's head, thankful that she heard a satisfying crunch as the metal and glass met its mark.

With a scream of pain, Beta shoved her away and pushed Carl aside as he ran out of the library through the dark, the knife still protruding out his back.

Letting the Whisperer go, Carl ran over to Lydia and grabbed her arms. "Are you okay?"

Lydia nodded, her eyes alight with the satisfaction of having vanquished her worst nightmare. "I'm fine. Are you okay?"

Carl nodded and lit the remaining lantern to give them some light. "Help is on the way. They'll go after Beta..."

And at that moment, the room came alive with the booted feet of his Dad, Michonne and Negan as well as Jesus and Aaron.

They were safe.

An hour later, the search party came back empty handed as Beta's trail of blood led to one marked by horse hooves as it was clear his scouting had prompted him to bring the animal for a quick getaway to the road where the trail went cold as the road was clean and one couldn't track a car.

Beta had gotten away but he had gone home empty handed and Lydia remained safe so everyone counted that as a victory.

With the dead in the trenches put down, the burning of the bodies would wait for the morning as exhaustion consumed the community, the adrenaline from the night's battle waning and the knowledge of the bigger battle to come weighing heavy on everyone's mind.

Jesus worked with Maddy and Jim to find the Savior and Alexandrian soldiers accommodations for the night as Rick and Michonne fussed over Carl and Lydia, hugging the teenagers and commending them for their courage.

Tonight could have ended in death and the destruction of Hilltop as well as a young girl being returned to Hell but, instead? Instead three communities of soldiers fought together and defeated their enemy. They defeated their enemy and sent a clear message to their leader that her reign was about to end.

 **Michonne's bedroom**

As Michonne dried off after washing the fight off of her, she dipped her head and sighed. While she was grateful none of their people had died, there were injuries and the walls to her community had sustained damage. They couldn't allow the Whisperers to regroup. They would have to gather their forces tomorrow and make the trip north.

No rest for the weary these days.

As she walked towards her bed, the door to her room opened and Rick came in, dressed in a clean t-shirt, his hair curling damply against his neck. He sent a soft smile in her direction as he walked towards her.

"Carl is settled in for the night. Lydia insisted that he stay with her so Jesus gave him a sleeping bag and he's camped out on the floor in her room. We've got guards posted outside the door and Carl is armed. If Beta is stupid enough to try again tonight, he won't get within fifty feet of her."

Michonne returned Rick's smile and nodded, walking into the arms that he opened as he reached her. Closing her eyes as she rested her head against his muscled chest, Michonne breathed in his clean, soapy smell and realized that he must have washed up and changed before coming to her room.

Rick rested his head on Michonne's and pulled her in tighter, so relieved to have her safe in his arms. So grateful to have his son unharmed right down the hall. As awful as the day had been, they had _won_. Michonne and Carl had survived Negan and they _all_ had survived the Whisperer attack.

Today could have been one of the worst days of his life and instead?

Instead he had the woman he loved in his arms and they were all going to live to see another day. Tomorrow they would march to war and uncertainty would loom again but tonight? Tonight he and Michonne were alive and in love and _together_. And he intended to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

As Michonne burrowed into Rick, her earlier exhaustion dissipated as languor and awareness took root. What was it about being in this man's orbit that made her want to forget about her responsibilities and burdens and just lose herself? She had spent so long being alone that it was as if her body was clamoring for connection every opportunity it had.

Even if it was just for a few stolen moments between the battle and the war. Between victory and uncertainty.

Pulling away from Rick, Michonne took him by the hand and led him to the large bed and drew down the soft comforter. Turning, she met his heated gaze and smiled at the question behind the fire. He wouldn't be the one doing the taking tonight. Not after the day she had. The day where she had had to not only negotiate herself out of being used but had to fight to defend her home. No, tonight, she was going to be in control.

And she would make sure her lover enjoyed every long, delicious minute of it.

Nudging Rick onto the bed, Michonne stood between his legs and ran a hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, smiling as his hands ran up her bare legs to cup and caress the bare skin under her t-shirt. As she drew her fingers from his hair to cup his handsome face, Michonne lowered her lips to his and after a brief sigh of a kiss, just a hint of what was to come, she whispered while meeting his heated gaze with her confident one.

"I need you, Rick and I want you."

Rick swallowed as this beautiful woman, this warrior who had his heart in her hand, declared herself to him. He would do anything and everything for her and knew that tonight she needed to be in control. Nodding his head as he held up his arms so she could draw his shirt over his head, he whispered back the only words right for this moment.

"I'm yours."

Her heart racing as every cell in her body came alive, Michonne unbuttoned Rick's jeans and drew them down his long legs, then tossed them aside. As he reclined on the bed, reading her mind and knowing exactly what she wanted, Rick watched through eyes blurred with a haze of lust as Michonne slowly drew the loose t-shirt over her head, leaving him naked to her gaze.

And she let him look his fill.

As Rick laid on the large bed, awaiting her next move, Michonne's lips curved into a languid smile as his gaze surveyed her, lingering at her eyes, her mouth, her breasts and finally at the place where she knew he wanted to place his lips for long, lingering kisses and then fill with the throbbing cock that was aching to be touched.

But Rick didn't move, didn't reach out to touch because this was her night and, yes, he was _hers_.

Climbing onto the bed, Michonne straddled Rick and reveled in the quick intake of breath as their skin touched and the insides of her thighs slid along his cock while she knelt over him. Biting her lip as passion snuffed out the stress of the day and allowed her to focus on the beautiful man beneath her, Michonne ran her hands over his muscled chest, raking her nails lightly over his nipples that immediately pebbled with her touch.

As her hands continued their exploration of his flat stomach, Michonne lowered her lips to Rick's for a wet, open mouthed kiss that took on a life of its own, their tongues mating in an exploration and rhythm that was a precursor of what was to come. Soft groans filled the room as Michonne tilted her head to gain better access, her lips pulling, nipping and caressing Rick's until she could feel his cock thrusting upward, demand refuge in her wet heat.

As Rick's hands cupped her ass, Michonne panted and she knew she couldn't draw this out much longer. She didn't know if she ever could with this man as the passion they felt for each other was too incendiary for teasing.

Pulling her head back, Michonne sat up on her knees and, wanting to pleasure Rick as much as he pleasured her, slowly drew her hands up her flat stomach to caress her breasts, loving how Rick muttered an expletive and his cock twitched restlessly at her entrance as the sight of her pleasuring herself almost sent him over the edge.

Knowing she was close to release herself, Michonne drew her hands down and braced them on his stomach as she slowly lowered herself onto his hard length, closing her eyes at the overwhelming fullness.

Moving her hands to grip his muscled thighs behind her, Michonne set the rhythm of their lovemaking, starting off slow and then moving up and down on his shaft faster and faster, the friction and heat from the movement causing both of them to groan as their passion built to a crescendo.

 _She's everything. She's mine. I'm hers._

While Rick cupped Michonne's ass in his hands and looked up as she rode him, her full breasts bouncing with the rhythm she set, he had never felt so consumed with passion and need for another human being. Knowing that he was close, Rick moved his hand to where their bodies joined and gently pressed the hardened nub at her entrance, flicking and massaging his finger against it in the same rhythm Michonne had set. As her walls clamped around his cock, the last thing Rick saw before his eyes rolled to the back of head was Michonne throwing her head back, her long neck arched as she moaned and her release joined his.

 _She had ascended. She had gone to heaven and back to earth._

After her earth shattering release, Michonne collapsed on top of Rick, burying her face into his warm, sweaty neck and relaxing the grip her thighs had around his hips. As Rick's hands caressed her back and hips and their breathing slowed to normal rates, Michonne smiled against his salty skin.

She had never felt so alive as she did in this moment.

Pressing a loving kiss against Rick's neck, Michonne lifted herself off of him, chuckling softly at his murmured protests and then sighing happily as he immediately drew her into his arms and intertwined his legs through hers.

Stroking his hand down the smooth, lean muscles of Michonne's arm and then coming to rest at the curve of her hip, Rick placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. Now that the passion for each other had been fed and quiet once again took hold over them, Rick allowed his heart to fill the silence.

"Michonne?"

A nuzzle and then a quiet, "Yes?"

"I love you."

A smile against his neck and then his gaze was filled with her beautiful face as she propped herself up on her elbow, her big brown eyes lit with emotion, as the smile he had felt against his skin lit up the room.

"I love you too."

Rick nodded decisively as the world righted itself and their enemies faded into the distance where they belonged.

Tomorrow was the march to war.

Tonight was for them and _only them_ and, he for one, was going to commit every second and minute to memory.

As Michonne met Rick's hungry mouth with soft lips and a happy sigh, she promised herself to enjoy this time with the man who loved her and whom she loved because before the battle, she had to remember what she was fighting so very hard for.

The future.

 **A/N: We're nearing the end everyone! Just two chapters to go and they will be doozies! I wanted to end this update with some love as I publish it on the night of the Season 7 premiere which will be tragic. I hope that my story serves as a distraction and helps you get through the sadness, even for just a little while!**


	15. Deployment

_When soldiers leave for war, there are no guarantees they'll get a return trip home. They say goodbye to their loved ones, plant reassuring smiles on their faces, suppress their fear and their uncertainty in order to give a proper farewell. There have been wars since man stood upright. There were wars before the Turn and plenty of wars after. We are here today because of the sacrifices the brave and selfless few made for the Greater Good._

 _Let us remember them. Let us thank them. Let us love them._

 **The Whisperer's Camp**

After spending a restless night on the ground next to Roy, the groans of the corpses staked nearby filling his dreams, Dwight woke at dawn with grit behind his lids and an emptiness in his stomach. Standing with a stealth and quiet developed these past couple of years, he surveyed the camp. There was mist rising up from the valley floor around them and it cast an eerie film throughout the space he now called home. The unmasked residents darted from task to task, their heads down and their eyes constantly on the look-out for harassment or attack from the masked soldiers who loitered around.

All of a sudden, the squeal of car brakes echoed through the quiet murmurs and there were shouts at the main gate. A now fully awake Roy ran up next to Dwight, his bleary eyes wide as he saw who had arrived and was heading straight towards Alpha's shelter, a makeshift bandage tied around his knee clearly the reason for his serious limp.

"Oh shit."

Dwight swiveled his head at Roy's whispered expletive. "What? Who is that guy?"

Just as Roy opened his mouth to respond, there was a howl of rage from inside the shelter, an inhuman sound that drowned out all other noise.

Roy swallowed, fear clearing the sleep from his expression. "That guy is Beta, Alpha's second in command. He's been on a mission to retrieve Alpha's daughter, who ran away. Beta found where she was and about a week or so ago, came back to gather up some soldiers and a bunch of our dead ones to attack the place." Roy closed his eyes as if to block out the fury that still sounded from within the shelter and Dwight nudged him to open them back up as Beta ran out of the shelter, his head ducking from items being thrown at him.

"It looks like Beta failed in his mission." Roy performed a shaky sign of the cross as he muttered to the ground. "God help us all."

Dwight watched the chaos before him as soldiers looked to each other for direction, not knowing which leader to approach and ended up turning their uncertainty into ire as they started bullying the servants to get back to work.

As Dwight turned to clean up his campsite, he realized the his timeline to get close to Alpha just escalated exponentially. He didn't have days to accomplish this feat, but most likely mere hours before all hell broke loose. If Dwight knew Negan, he was most likely on his way here along with the people from Hilltop and Alexandria and he had to do his part to give them an edge.

His life and Sherry's life depended on it.

 **Hilltop**

As dawn broke, everyone knew what they had to do. The soldiers who were slated to fight in the war were gathering their supplies into backpacks and duffle bags, cleaning their weapons and spending the remaining spare moments with their loved ones. While there was a great deal of activity, there was a sense of quiet in the community, the mood somber as everyone knew that some may not make it home.

Michonne gathered Negan, Rick, Jesus and Aaron along with some of the more senior soldiers like Abraham, Jim and Stevie into her office for one last strategy session. After reviewing the plans that they had worked on over the past week, Michonne gazed with no small amount of satisfaction at the group before her, soldiers from three different communities putting aside their difference to band together to fight a common enemy. This was always the way wars were won, from the beginning of mankind until the end.

Her voice imbued with the confidence she wanted each person to feel, Michonne spoke. "Today we end it. We end the threat to our homes, our families and our livelihood. We all know what we need to do and how we're going to do it. We need each other and the people, weapons and knowledge we _all_ bring. If we do this right, _just_ as we planned, everyone gets to come home, understand?"

Heads nodded and even a few shouts of "Yes!" echoed through the room, making Michonne's lips curve into a small smile.

"We fight for Hilltop. We fight for Alexandria and we fight for The Sanctuary. And every mile in between. We know what our jobs are so let's get to it. Just remember your most important job of all."

Silence as the gravity of the situation settled onto the shoulders of every soldier in the room.

"Stay alive to fight another day."

And with that, Abraham lifted his semi-automatic rifle in the air with a 'Hoo-yah!' and the rest followed suit with the exception of Rick and Negan. Michonne's fellow leaders simply turned their gazes from their group to her and nodded.

They were all in. Miracles did happen after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thirty minutes later, Carl and Rick were ready to make the quick trip back to Alexandria with Abraham and Heath, where Rick would mobilize his soldiers and Carl would stay behind to help protect his community in case of an attack. As Rick worked with Abraham on final preparations, Michonne and Carl went to speak with Lydia who was watching all of the activity from the porch steps of the mansion.

"Lydia, I want you to go to Alexandria with Carl. They have high steel walls and it's the one community the Whisperers haven't been spotted near. You'll be safe there," Michonne said as approached the young girl.

Lydia stood up and walked over to Michonne, a small smile on her pretty face. "I want to stay here, Michonne. Hilltop is my home now and I want to help protect it."

Carl's eye widened in surprise at the words he thought would never come out of Lydia's mouth. Where was the frightened girl who didn't even want to leave the house?

Lydia's smile grew as she observed the shock on Carl's face. "It's your fault Carl, I'll have you know. You showed me that even a kid can fight back. You defeated our strongest soldier and you have _one_ eye." Her smile gentled to indicate that she didn't mean her declaration as an insult. "Last night this community fought an enemy that I brought to its door. You all fought to protect me and to beat back monsters that came to hunt me down. I need to repay you.."

"Lydia, you don't..." Michonne started to interject but stopped with the hand Lydia raised along with the shake of her blonde head.

"I do, Michonne. And I _can_. Alpha insisted that I learn how to shoot and use knives so that I could contribute to the community. I learned and I'm good at it. Let me help. I'm not afraid of the dark anymore because the monsters died last night. And if the biggest monster comes back here? I'll be ready for him." Lydia laid her slender hands on Carl and Michonne's arms in a tentative embrace. "You both showed me the path I can go down now and I want to prove myself worthy of your belief in me."

Michonne's pulled Lydia into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you Lydia. And I accept your offer to stay behind. We need every soldier we can get. Maddy will set you up with a gun and a watch point, okay?"

Lydia nodded as she stepped back from Michonne's embrace to address Carl, whose shocked expression had morphed into one of respect and Lydia's cheeks pinkened against her will. Covering her embarrassment, Lydia forced a carefree grin as she said her goodbyes to the boy she now considered her friend. "When this is over? I want to come visit your home and we can have a video game marathon okay? I used to beat all the boys on my block at Mario Kart. Deal?"

Carl nodded and smiled, feeling suddenly shy around this more confident Lydia. "Deal."

Lydia's smile dimmed as her eyes darted between the two people she cared about most in the world now. "Stay safe, both of you."

Michonne squeezed Lydia's shoulder. "We will."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Rick strode out the front door of the mansion, anxious to get going, he stopped suddenly as he found himself face to face with Negan, who had just zipped up his pack resting on the small table on the porch. It would have been easy to walk right past his enemy and continue his exit, but he owed this man for answering their SOS last night. If he and his men hadn't come, and brought Rick's men with them, the tide could very possibly not gone their way.

Rick nodded his head in Negan's direction as he shifted the pack onto his shoulder. "Good luck today and...thank you again for your help last night."

Negan threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter, his dark eyes alight with glee. "That must have made your ass itch, huh Deputy? Forcing the warm fuzzies out into the light of day with _me_? What _is_ the world coming to?"

Rick's lips quirked in the smallest of smiles. "Well, it _is_ the end of the world after all. Hell freezing over isn't so impossible now, is it?"

Negan's brows shot straight up as his jaw dropped. "Holy shit! Did you just crack a _joke_?" His hands clapping a slow round of applause, Negan chuckled. "Well done, Deputy. Well done."

Silence soon reigned again as the clapping stopped and the two leaders and sworn enemies took measure of each other. As their gazes locked, memories of crimes committed against each other, unforgivable offenses, oozed up to the surface and put a damper on their light moment.

Negan broke the silence first, no twinkle in his eye now. "You know Michonne's pipe dream? The one where we all live together in _perfect harmony_?" Negan sang the last words to the tune of a commercial jingle from decades earlier. "It ain't gonna happen. Not with us."

Rick sighed and nodded. "I know it and you know it but she needs that hope."

Negan rolled his lips inward as he reflected on the woman who had become way too important to him. The woman who had achieved the impossible by bringing them all together to defeat an enemy that would pick them all off if allowed to live. He would do anything and everything to give Michonne what she wanted today and what they all _needed_.

Victory.

"You and I can agree on a couple of things today Deputy. We work together to wipe this earth clean of those freaks."

"Yes."

"And the other thing? No matter what happens...no matter how much _shit_ happens today..." Negan stopped and willed his enemy to make the declaration.

"Michonne lives."

Negan nodded, pleased that he and Rick were on the same page.

"Michonne lives."

And with that pledge, both leaders went their separate ways, knowing the next time they saw each other would be on the battlefield.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michonne walked Rick and Carl to the gate, patting the horses that would take them to their vehicles. While she would see Rick in a few short hours, the next time she would see Carl was unknown and she felt herself overcome with emotion. How was it that this boy had found his way into her heart in such a short period of time?

Taking a deep breath and willing herself not to get weepy, Michonne walked toward Carl with a smile and then was stunned as the teenager drew her into a tight embrace, their similar heights allowing her to clearly hear his whispered, "Thank you for coming into our lives. Stay safe and come home."

Michonne choked back a sob as she clutched Carl closer to her, willing the day to go by quickly so that she could get started on her future with this special young man and his sister. She wanted so very much to be a part of their lives, whatever that part ended up being. Finally, Michonne responded with, "Thank you Carl. You stay safe too. I'll see you soon."

With that, Michonne stepped away and gave Carl a watery smile as he mounted his horse and rode toward the gate, giving his father a few moments of privacy. Moments that Rick didn't waste as he drew Michonne into his own embrace, caressing her lips with his in a farewell that promised as much as it comforted and, as Michonne returned his kiss, her fingers gripped his curls of their own volition, making it clear that she was ready to get this day over with.

As Rick slowly and reluctantly moved away, he rested his forehead against Michonne's and whispered, "See you soon." And with that, he joined his son and the two Grimes men rode out through the gates.

Resting her hand to still her rapidly beating heart, Michonne closed her eyes against the wave of peace that stole through her body. She had a future to fight for and would use those dreams of lighter days to fuel her for the battle that was to come.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

While Jesus and Aaron finished packing up with the soldiers, Michonne gathered Maddy and the residents who were staying behind near the base of the porch steps. Standing a couple of steps higher in order to be heard, Michonne took a moment to look at her people and a soft smile curved her lips.

"A year ago, many of you were afraid to use a gun or to learn how to shoot an arrow. _None_ of you were born to be soldiers or fighters. You were office workers, teachers, artists, farmers and nurses. You had been peacefully living your lives, contributing to society and then the world went wrong and society fell away."

As Michonne surveyed the small crowd, her smile grew brighter as she spotted Lydia standing tall and proud with her semi automatic pistol holstered at her hip. "I now realize the true capacity humans have to remake themselves when called upon to do so. Every one of you could have given up, like _I_ almost did, when you lost everything. But you _didn't_. You re-learned how to function and thrive in a strange new world. And it's because of _you_ that our soldiers and that _I_ have something to come home to, to fight for.

Thank you all for stepping up and protecting Hilltop while we finish this fight that was brought to our door. Thank you for your courage, your will and your determination. I love you all and respect you all and _together_ we will bring peace to our community once again."

With that, the community erupted in cheers, louder than Michonne would have anticipated and, she looked beyond the small crowd in front of her to see all of her soldiers and archers join in from where they must have stood listening, Jesus and Aaron grinning at her from their positions in the front.

Returning their grin, Michonne allowed herself this small moment of elation and kept the grim reality of the day at bay. There would be enough time for doubts and fear. She deserved to celebrate with her people and they deserved to see their leader stand confidently before them.

As the crowd dispersed, Michonne bent to pick up her sword and swung the strap over her neck and shoulder, comforted with its familiar weight. It was time to go. As she stepped off the porch onto the ground, she looked up to see Jesus approach her, his eyes lit with amusement.

"How far you've come my friend."

Michonne ducked her head as she fiddled with the strap on her shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"It wasn't that long ago that you were more comfortable clearing the woods of the dead than you were dealing with people and now look at you...leading not only one community but _three_ communities of soldiers in battle while leaving your community in the hands of people who jumped at their own shadow a year ago. You're amazing."

Michonne chuckled to hide the embarrassment Jesus' gushing brought on. "I didn't do it alone. I had you and Maddy and Jim and everyone else doing what needed to be done."

Jesus picked up Michonne's backpack and slung it over his shoulder against her gestures of protest. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he gave it a squeeze as he escorted her to the gate. "You silly woman. Don't you know? We do what needs to be done _because_ of you and _for_ you. You showed us the way and made this place what it is today. You made it a home, even for a crazy loner computer guy who likes to kick things. So get used to the love because you're going to be feeling it for a long, long time."

Michonne tilted her head to rest it on her friend's shoulder as they approached the gate. Speaking through the emotion that welled up in her heart, Michonne responded quietly. "Right back at you my friend, right back at you."

And with that, they were off to war.

 **The Whisperer's Camp**

Dwight's opportunity to get into Alpha's good graces came from an unexpected source. As he returned from his hunt, a half dozen rabbits slung across his shoulder, he saw Alpha come out of her shelter, eyes bloodshot from her earlier tirade. Her soldiers kept their distance, uncertain of her mercurial moods and avoiding her wrath.

Swallowing past his fear, Dwight stood straight and started to round the corner of her shelter in order to approach her and show off his bounty. Just as he was about to step forward, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of movement, nothing more than a slight figure dressed in rags, a mop of knotted greasy hair hiding a face, and that blur rushed towards Alpha, whose back was turned. Dwight acted on instinct when he saw the figure's arm raise and realized that he was about to watch an assassination attempt as the knife's blade glinted in the sunlight. Dwight rushed forward and grabbed the raised hand, easily twisting the bony wrist and forcing the knife to drop.

At the sound of the scuffle behind her, Alpha turned in time to see her assassin wrestled to the ground, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of the knife only a foot away from where she was standing. As her absentee soldiers ran to assist the newcomer who had just saved her life, Alpha smiled, the world once again righting itself.

Walking up to the woman who was now struggling in the hold of her soldiers, Alpha recognized her as Marion, the mother of the runaway who was recently executed and bolted to a tree as an example to anyone else with ideas of leaving her fold. Brushing the greasy hair away from the woman's pale face, Alpha gazed at eyes lit with grief and rage and felt an almost kinship to this woman as she appreciated the woman's instinct to avenge her son's death. It was the same feeling Alpha had for the monsters who had taken her daughter from her. They would die a thousand deaths if she got her way.

Running a gentle finger down the woman's sunken cheek, Alpha smile at her softly and that smile finally pierced the woman's anger and her struggles slowed as dread took over. Bowing her head in defeat, the woman simply listened as her sentence was passed.

"Marion, you have tried to kill your leader today. You have tried to become the pack's Alpha and you failed. But as you have thrown down the challenge, I will pick it up, as I always do. Our people know that I do not shy away from the fight. Choose your weapon, Marion, and you will have your second chance."

Dwight's brows drew together as he watched this exchange. The woman didn't seem to be surprised but was instead resigned to her fate. It looked like Alpha's leadership had been challenged before, possibly numerous times, and there seemed to be some kind of ritual response to each attempt.

The woman mumbled something and Alpha ducked her head closer, almost mockingly. "What was that? I didn't hear you, dear. Speak up please."

"A branch."

"Branch. Excellent choice. So much better than a pesky rock, I always say. Well then, I'll see you in the arena. David and Billy, sound the horn so that everyone comes to watch. I want every pack member to see how their leader wins."

After the woman had been escorted away and her guards left to sound the call of the death match that was about to start, Alpha finally turned to Dwight and he was taken aback at the calm and almost mischievous air she had, mere moments after an attempt was made on her life.

"Dwight is it?" At his nod, Alpha continued. "Well, Dwight, you saved your leader's life today and I am in your debt. What is it you would like? Anything I have is yours."

Dwight knew that wasn't true but he also knew this was the best chance he would get to finish the job he was sent to do. Bowing his head, Dwight's request was simple. "I want nothing but to serve as a soldier and protect you and everything you consider valuable."

Alpha smiled, pleased with Dwight's answer. "I will grant your request, Dwight. Let's go find you a mask, shall we?"

And with that, Dwight was in.

 **Alexandria**

As Rick threw his backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the door, there was a brief knock and then Glenn entered his house, a questioning look on his face. "Hey, Maggie said you wanted to see me? I was just finishing up my packing..."

"You're not going." Rick replied as he led Glenn back out of the house and then gestured for him to take a seat on the porch as he dropped his pack to the ground and leaned against the railing facing his longtime friend.

Glenn shook his head. "No way, Rick. I'm not sitting this one out. It's too big a fight. You need every soldier you've got."

Rick nodded as he crossed his arms loosely across his chest. "You're right. It _is_ a big fight, our biggest yet but we've got people from all three communities going and the plan Michonne's come up with relies more on surprise than strength. We'll be good with what we have. I need you here, Glenn."

Glenn tilted his head, confusion clearly displayed on his even features. "Why? You don't think Alexandria is at risk, do you?"

Rick smiled at his friend as memories of their time together flashed through his mind. Glenn had just been a kid a couple years ago, a brave, quick thinking, generous kid who had grown into a true survivor, a man who had fallen in love and learned how to navigate the hell they now lived in, all while keeping his humanity intact. Rick was lucky to consider him family. Those memories made what he was about to ask Glenn so very easy.

"I think Alexandria is safe but we still need to be on high alert as there is a chance the remaining scouting party could discover us. I'll need you to work with Father Gabriel, Tobin and Rosita to make sure each wall is watched around the clock." Rick pushed away from the railing and sat next to Glenn for the next part.

"The reason I need you to stay is for Carl and Judith. In case I don't come back."

Glenn's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "You're coming back, Rick. Don't even talk like that!"

Rick nodded. "I hope to and I intend to but if I don't?" Rick clasped his hand on Glenn's shoulder. "If I don't, I need to leave Carl and Judith with someone I trust. Someone I know will protect them and love them. Can you do that for me?"

Glenn swallowed past the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat but immediately nodded. "Of course. You don't even need to ask. Maggie and I will take care of the kids as if they were our own. But you're _coming back_."

Rick's lips curved into a small smile. "I'm coming back and, when I do, we're going to put together that crib for your little one, okay?"

Glenn grinned, as he always did when thinking or talking about the baby growing inside of his wife, and clasped Rick's shoulder in response. "Deal."

 **The Sanctuary**

After returning to The Sanctuary, Negan commandeered his soldiers and gave them their orders and time of departure. He wasn't in the mood to do his usual pomp and circumstance and just played it straight, his mind already in that valley in Maryland, ready to end this shit show of a war.

He was tired. Tired of always being on. Tired of working so hard to convince everyone around him that he had it all figured out and loved living in a world that had decided to take a piss on everyone left living in it.

As Negan threw supplies into his pack, Wilson, his butler, knocked with two sharp raps on the door and then waited to be called in. Negan smiled and shook his head. Only took the guy 400 reminders to get it right. Nothing like being threatened with death and dismemberment to smarten even the idiots up.

As the door opened, Wilson stepped into the room, standing straight and tall with his eyes staring over Negan's shoulder. "I've found Sherry, sir. Here she is."

Negan waved his hand impatiently and Sherry entered his room, flinching slightly as Wilson closed the door behind him with a quiet click.

Well, well, she certainly settled into her new role as wife-nanny, Negan thought, as he surveyed Sherry's conservative outfit of loose jeans and button down blouse, her hair pulled back in a functional ponytail. A far cry from the short dresses he had previously clothed her in.

Moving his gaze up to her face, Negan smiled slightly at her nervous gaze darting around the room. He had trained her well. She knew to always be on edge around him, always expect the unexpected.

Well, he had one more surprise in his back pocket. _Literally_.

Pulling out a small envelope, Negan decided to put on another show, if nothing else, to get his energy up for the battle to come. Widening his smile into his showman's grin, Negan sauntered over to where Sherry stood so still near the door.

"Nice to see you settled into your schoolmarm role, Sherry darling. I hope the girls are behaving for you. They get bitchy when they're bored and I've been very neglectful of late."

Sherry couldn't nod fast enough. "They...they're fine Negan. Everyone is doing their part and they've all started the new jobs I gave them. I've had no problems."

"Excellent. Now since you've done such fine work, I'm going to give you a bonus." With that, Negan shook the hand holding the envelope, making it flap with the sudden motion. "I know you're worried about your boyfriend since I sent him away. Probably wondering if he's dead or alive or..." Negan added an exaggerated wince, "...somewhere in between. Before I leave, I wanted to fill you in just in case the freaks and geeks up in Maryland win this thing." With that, Negan performed what was probably the single most generous gesture since the world ended, and handed Sherry the envelope.

"This envelope holds a letter, signed by me, giving you and Dwight my biggest outpost. That was the deal I made with him. You also get the guns and provisions that go with it. You can invite your favorite Saviors to join you or live there in lonely bliss, that's up to you. Of course, the deal only works if Dwight helps us beat the Whisperers and he and I both come home safe and sound. But I thought it was only fair for you to have it. You can tuck it away in your underwear drawer while you're waiting for your hero to return."

Sherry's eyes welled with tears of relief as she realized that, not only had Dwight's life been spared, Negan had just given the two of them their walking papers. They would be free of his tyranny if they won the war. Swiping her hand quickly across her face as she knew Negan hated tears, Sherry took a deep breath and gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you Negan. I wish you and everyone else good luck."

Negan barked out a cynical laugh, knowing her smile had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her impending freedom. "I bet you do, darling, I just bet you do."

 **The Whisperer's Camp**

Standing in formation next to the other soldiers in Alpha's elite guard, Dwight breathed through his mouth in shallow pants in a desperate attempt to avoid the mask's overwhelming odor. He could feel the rotted flesh adhere to his skin and it took visions of Sherry smiling and happy in their new home to stop him from ripping the fetid mask off and throwing it to the ground.

Just a little while longer and this would be all over.

With every resident surrounding the barbed wire fenced in arena, Marion was shoved into the middle of it and given a sturdy, slender branch to hold as a weapon. Alpha followed her in, rotted flesh mask firmly in place and no weapon in her hands.

 _What the_...Dwight was puzzled as to what kind of fight this was supposed to be when suddenly a truck backed up to the arena gate and the door was opened by two masked soldiers. As the hurriedly backed away through the gate, a dozen corpses lumbered down the ramp into the arena and headed right towards Marion as the truck pulled away.

It was at that moment that Dwight realized that Marion had a dozen or more new cuts on her arms and legs, fresh blood acting as a lure for the dead. With a sense of horror, Dwight realized that this fight was nothing more than an execution as Alpha stood unmolested behind her mask while Marion tried in vain to beat back the horde of dead with a meager stick.

The fight that _wasn't_ a fight was over in less than a minute.

Dwight prayed that Negan got there soon because he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up with this facade. Alpha was indeed a monster who deserved for the last of her days to be upon her.

 **On the road from Alexandria**

With Abraham next to him behind the wheel, driving the car that led the caravan of soldiers from Alexandria, Rick shook his head as he remembered the scavenging trip the two of them took such a short time ago. That fateful trip that allowed a ninja scout from a neighboring community to stowaway in their truck and change their lives forever.

Rick would have to find a way to thank Jesus properly when they got home.

"You know, for a man about to head into battle against a well armed cult, you look pretty damn satisfied with yourself." Abraham drawled, his mustache twitching with humor.

Rick looked over at his friend and shook his head, a small smile quirking his lips. "Not satisfied as much as amazed at everything that's happened these past few weeks. The good, the bad _and_ the ugly."

Abraham nodded, taking a moment to ruminate on Rick's comment. "I hear ya Chief. The ugly being Ol' Negan, of course." At Rick's nod, Abraham continued in a more somber tone, "The bad being the loss of Daryl." Several moments of silence filled the car as both men remembered their fallen comrade and, for Rick, the man he loved as a brother. Daryl should have been in the car with them at this moment, checking on his crossbow and muttering under his breath about the assholes up north pissing him the hell off.

Instead he was buried in Alexandria's cemetery, along with too many other friends and family members they had lost.

"Now the good? _That's_ where it gets interesting."

Abraham's suggestive drawl yanked Rick out of his sad musings. "What do you mean, _interesting_?"

"Well, the _good_ can mean so many different things. It could mean the truce with the Saviors or being able to feed our people with the food from The Hilltop. It could mean realizing that there are more people like us out there, more of the good guys..." Abraham let his words hang as he glanced over at a flushed Rick who suddenly found the passing landscape of paramount interest.

"Orrrr it could mean our fearless leader found a _whole_ lotta good in _another_ fearless leader and he's about as happy as a guy can be these days. My pesos are on door number four Alex."

Rick scoffed to redirect the conversation. "You're mixing your game shows."

Abraham shrugged, undeterred and determined to make his point. "It's clear as the freckles on my ass, Chief. You fell in love and from where I've been standing, the lady is returning the favor. All I gotta say is that's enough _good_ to give a man hope. I mean, if a grumpy hot-tempered guy like you can find love, a handsome charmer like me is a sure bet, right?"

Rick laughed, enjoying the brief respite from the pressures of the day, something Abraham had a great knack for providing and he was grateful for it. "Right. Love is right around the corner for you, man, I can feel it."

"All right then, it's settled. We'll be double dating by Christmas."

More laughter from the car speeding down the quickest route to southern Maryland as the two soldiers distracted themselves from what was ahead with camaraderie born of shared battles and the losses and victories that came with them.

 **On the road from The Hilltop**

"We should be at the rendezvous point in about twenty minutes. We've made excellent time, let's hope the rest of our day goes as smoothly." Jesus remarked as he glanced over at a subdued Aaron sitting in the passenger seat next to him. A quick look in the rearview mirror confirmed that Michonne's car and the rest of the caravan from Hilltop were right behind them.

"If everything goes according to plan, it should go well." Aaron responded without taking his gaze from the passing landscape out the window.

Having gotten to know Aaron well during their short time together, Jesus knew something was on his mind so he pushed, wanting Aaron's head clear for the fight they were about to embark on. "What's wrong Aaron? You're not yourself. Haven't been all day as a matter of fact."

Aaron shrugged. "I'm fine. Just nervous about what's ahead."

Jesus turned his attention back to the road but, out of the corner of his eye, caught Aaron's fingers tapping on the holster he wore around his waist before clenching his hand in a tight fist on his lap. Everything became clear and he now knew what Aaron needed to get off his chest.

"You're feeling bad about last night. The men you had to kill outside of Hilltop."

Aaron finally turned his gaze towards Jesus, his blue eyes bleak with regret. "I've killed before. When I've had to. I never have an easy time with it."

"When you start to have an easy time with it, that's the time to be concerned. Killing is only easy for those who never see the humanity, the possibilities lost. It's only easy for those who see people as targets or obstacles. That's not you."

Aaron nodded as he clenched and unclenched the fist on his lap. "I've killed five men in my life. Two while recruiting for Alexandria and three last night. I hate that I'm at liberty to do so. I hate that others can kill me without compunction but I guess that's the world we live in now."

Jesus hated seeing his friend consumed with guilt and, on impulse, reached out across the console and laid his hand over Aaron's clenched fist on his lap, hoping that the contact would reassure him that he wasn't alone. Aaron immediately tensed and sat up straight in his seat, then looked over at Jesus, question in his eyes instead of regret.

 _Progress._

With a quiet smile, Jesus squeezed his hand over Aaron's, willing the fist to relax, his smile growing bigger when it did. "It _is_ the world we live in now, Aaron. _We_ , not _you_. We're all in this together, we're all figuring this out as we go along and we're all hoping like hell we don't screw it up. You're not alone, okay? Not by a long shot."

Aaron stared down at the hand resting on his own and he felt the tension drain from his body, felt the guilt that had been suffocating him since last night start to fade away under the warmth of that hand. Taking a leap of faith, Aaron turned his own hand around so that it could clasp the one that had brought him back into the present. Giving Jesus' hand a quick squeeze and letting their fingers remain loosely twined, Aaron sent a smile to his clearly surprised (yet pleased?) friend.

"No. I'm not alone."

Those two hands remained as one until they reached their destination.

 **Southern Maryland**

As the three groups of soldiers convened at their meeting location, Jesus and Aaron dispersed the maps they had copied with the assigned routes highlighted for each group of cars. As they handed out the maps, they reminded the soldiers of their assignments and to wait for the signal that would come from their leaders via portable radio. Rick, Michonne and Negan followed this with personal messages of good luck to the men and women who would play a key part in their battle plan.

Three out of the five groups of soldiers left the meeting location as they followed their assigned routes to the spots where they would await their signal.

Rick addressed the remaining soldiers. "Okay, we're almost ready to go live. We'll take a scouting party through the woods to an overlook that Jesus found for us on the map. This overlook gives us a hidden viewpoint to the stadium where the Whisperers keep their herd of Walkers. Once we confirm the stadium is clear of guards, Jesus and Aaron, you and the rest will take the fourth group of cars and head down. Michonne, Negan, and I, along with her archers will take the remaining cars to the rise that overlooks the Whisperer's camp so that we're in position for when the time comes. Everyone understand?"

Terse nods from the group as quick goodbyes were made and the scouting party, consisting of Rick, Michonne, Negan, Stevie, Jim and Heath made their way silently through the woods, weapons drawn and on high alert as they were deep in enemy territory and could run into Whisperers at any moment.

After the tense trek through the woods, they finally came to the overlook and had a clear vantage point of the stadium. The moans of two thousand walkers could be heard through the humid, still air and, as Rick peered through the binoculars he removed from his pack, he let out a vicious expletive.

"What's wrong?" Michonne's low whisper came from near his shoulder and he handed her the binoculars to look for herself. "Lydia said they never guard the stadium. Looks like our friend Beta made his way home and they're now on high alert for something to go down."

Michonne refocused the binoculars and saw at least twenty masked soldiers patrolling the stadium entrance which made their plans get much more complicated. The key to winning without casualties today was the element of surprise. There was no way to sneak up on the men due to the enormous parking lot acting as a protective moat. They would have to go in guns blazing which would alert the entire camp located nearby. Michonne could use her archers but she didn't have twenty of them to take out twenty men at once and once the first men fell, the rest of the guards would start firing their weapons, leaving them at square one.

Michonne examined the surrounding area through the binoculars and stopped on a strip mall a short distance away. She knew exactly how to get there as she had reviewed the maps exhaustively after Jesus and Aaron had created them.

"We need to create a diversion, a distraction to draw the guards away. As soon as they leave, we signal Jesus and Aaron to approach the stadium with their fleet."

Negan took the binoculars from Michonne and aimed them in the spot she had last looked at. "I like how your mind works sweetheart. Let's get this show on the road. I'll take Stevie and Jimbo and get it done."

Michonne grabbed Negan's arm, stopping him in his tracks. "No, we don't have time for you to fumble your way down there. The other two fleets of cars are getting into position as we speak which means they can be spotted at any time and then it's all done. I know the quickest way to get there so I'll lead you and the guys while Rick and Heath head over to the overlook with my archers."

Negan immediately looked over to Rick and wasn't surprised to see the man vigorously shaking his head in denial. "No way, we stay _together_ , Michonne, do you hear me? That's the deal!"

"Rick, you're the only one who knows the complete plan as well as I do. I need you directing our teams and making sure everyone gets in place. This only works if everything goes according to plan, do you understand me? I'll be fine. There's no time to argue. Once we set off the diversion, we'll meet you at the overlook, okay?"

"GodDAMNit!" Rick gritted through his teeth as he pulled Michonne in for tight embrace. "You run if things go south, you hear me? You run! I _need_ you Michonne."

Michonne returned Rick's embrace with a fierce one of her own, gaining strength from their hearts pressed together to form one beat. "I'll stay safe, I promise. I'll see you on the other side."

And with that, Michonne and her group marched off into the woods.

After jogging for ten minutes, Michonne and Negan slowed to a brisk walk, needing their strength for whatever awaited them in the strip mall. "Jimmy's got a bag full of heavy duty fireworks. We'll set them off with long charges inside the stores and it will sound like bombs going off. If we're lucky, we'll even got some windows shattering to really put on show."

"Works for me." Negan responded as he caught his breath. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Jim and Stevie had fallen a distance behind. Turning to Michonne once again, Negan grinned, "Who would have thought you and I would be working together to save the day, huh? Leaving the poor deputy to play clean up duty."

Michonne rolled her eyes, "Did anyone ever tell you that you're best served in small portions, Negan? Seriously, less is more, okay?"

Negan chuckled, enjoying himself even if they were in an extremely precarious position on the front lines. "You know I love it when you get bossy, right? Why just the other day..."

 _Zing!_

Just as an arrow flew by Negan's head, he heard the sickening thud of impact and, as he pivoted around, saw Jim fall to the ground, the arrow embedded in his chest. Before he and Michonne could draw their weapons, a masked soldier leapt out at Stevie and slit his throat.

Michonne's eyes widened as she saw Jim fall, grief lancing her chest at the death of her loyal soldier and then she grabbed the hilt of her sword as she watched Stevie fall in quick succession.

"Keep that sword where it is sword lady. Actually drop it to the ground and we'll keep it for you. Same with you motorcycle guy, drop the gun and put your hands all the way up." These instructions came from the leader of a group of masked Whisperers who now surrounded them, a mixture of guns and crossbows aimed at their heads. Michonne looked over at Negan and her heart filled with dread at his bleak expression. There was no way out of this one.

She dropped her sword. He dropped his gun.

"Beta told us about you. You're the ones who beat him at your home on the hill. He thought you might be coming for a visit and sent us out here to keep a look out."

The leader leaned in close enough to overwhelm his prisoners with the stench of his death mask. "Alpha's gonna _love_ meeting you. Can't say you'll feel the same way though."

Then the world went black as a hood was thrown over Michonne's head and her hands were bound. She assumed the same was done to Negan after she heard him mutter "Not so tight asshole, she's just a woman and isn't going anywhere for chrissakes."

 _Oh Rick, I'm so sorry._

And with that, Michonne and Negan were led into Hell.

 **A/N: Thank you for your patience, everyone, as this update took awhile to get out. The election did a real number on my psyche and I found myself losing my muse because of it. Thankfully some community activism has got me thinking good thoughts once more and some fantastic canon Richonne scenes got my writing juices flowing once again.**

 **I dedicate this update to Abraham Ford and Glenn Rhee, two characters who left the show before their time was up. I hope you enjoyed their scenes in this chapter as I added them in their honor. Glenn was one of my favorite characters and Abraham grew on me over time. I wish MC and SY the best of luck in their careers and am confident they'll both find success in the years to come.**

 **I know there wasn't a lot of Richonne in this chapter but it was an important one as a set up to our story's conclusion! I wanted to give a sense of soldiers preparing to leave for battle and all the feelings that go along with it. I'd appreciate your thoughts, as always! I know I left you on a cliffhanger and will try really hard not to make you wait too long to see how this all ends!**


	16. Rise

_They led the pioneers of our New World. The survivors, the fighters, the revolutionaries and the builders._

 _Their names are in our new history books. Their stories will live on for the centuries that follow as they were the ones at the beginning of the end and they were the ones that learned to tame the world_

 _And we thank them for it._

 _History refers to them by their first names, Rick and Michonne. But before they belonged to you, before their legends were written, they were **my** heroes and the center of my very small world._

 _I called her Mama and I called him Dad._

 **Whisperer Camp- Michonne's Cell 2AV**

After a short walk through the woods, Michonne was led into a primitive cell on the outskirts of camp and her hood was removed. Blinking against the bright sunlight, Michonne looked around and found that she was alone with two Whisperer soldiers lounging against the wall, Negan nowhere in sight.

"Your boyfriend's on the other side, Sword Lady. Alpha is going to want to... _interview_...you separately. She likes one on ones, don't she Eddie?" A grating chuckle followed the question as the other soldier, presumably Eddie, nodded his head and grunted an affirmative behind his rotted mask.

As the two soldiers leaned against the wall of the cell, Michonne ignored their eyes crawling all over her as she imagined what Rick was doing at this moment. He had most likely have just arrived at the overlook with her archers and was wondering why the distraction she and Negan were to set off hadn't happened yet. Dropping her head to block the soldiers' view of her face, Michonne closed her eyes as she willed Rick to just stay put and not do anything foolish. They had agreed earlier in the day that, _no matter what_ , their plan _had_ to be executed.

Michonne's thoughts were interrupted by the groaning of the rusty metal door being opened and the shuffling of the soldiers' feet as they repositioned themselves to standing positions. Slowly lifting her head, Michonne braced herself for her first view of the monster who walked with the dead.

Tilting her head, Michonne allowed surprise to cross her face. Alpha wasn't some hideous gargoyle but, instead was a woman of average height and build with even features and large hazel eyes. Other than her shaved head and the emptiness behind her stare, the woman was surprisingly normal looking.

"Greetings. My name is Alpha and I am the leader of this community. I hope my men treated you well on your journey here?" While the words were softly spoken, Alpha's smile was more a baring of teeth than an expression of genuine welcome. Returning the favor with an insincere curve of her lips, Michonne gave a subtle nod, wanting to buy time while she figured this woman out.

"They were nothing but gentlemen."

Alpha chuckled as she slowly approached Michonne, curiosity lighting her eyes. "Well I doubt that as Eddie and Chuck can be rather _enthusiastic_ with our guests." Alpha paused and looked thoughtfully over her shoulder at the silent soldiers. "Then again, they haven't had a proper amount of time with you yet, have they?" Swiveling her head back towards Michonne, Alpha flashed another smile. "You'll have to give me your updated opinion after you've spent more time with them."

And with that, Alpha revealed her ability to use rape as leverage over her prisoners and most likely her community members. Refusing to give her the pleasure of seeing an ounce of fear, Michonne stood straight and tall and simply stared into Alpha's eyes, pleased when the leader's brow shot up in surprise.

Once Alpha drew up to within a few inches of Michonne, the polite veneer dropped. "Let's get to it, shall we? You have my daughter and I'm very unhappy about that. We don't know each other very well but you're going to find out very soon what I do when I'm not happy. And, I promise that you won't be standing so tall and proud when that happens." With that, Alpha drew a callused finger down Michonne's cheek, causing Michonne to rear her head back in disgust.

Alpha tilted her head, not offended by the gesture. "You have the most beautiful skin. So smooth and unlined..." After staring at Michonne's face for several tense seconds, Alpha seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts as she started to pace around the small cell. "Now where was I? Oh yes, you were going to tell me how my men can get my daughter back safely and then I was going to tell you how it feels to have the skin slowly flayed from your body if they fail in their mission."

Just then, another Whisperer soldier ran up to the cell door, breathing heavy behind his mask. "Alpha, you need to come quick, it's urgent."

Huffing with impatience, Alpha turned to the intruder, ready to set him down but, after seeing who it was, sighed with resignation, indicating to Michonne that he was a soldier she trusted. "I'll be right there." Turning to Michonne, she gave her a small smile. "I'll leave you to your thoughts but will be back soon and then we'll play."

On that ominous note, Alpha left, taking her soldiers with her.

 **Overlook**

As the archers quietly took their positions, Rick's fingers twitched over the walkie button, willing Michonne to check in. He had expected to hear the explosions from the fireworks while he made his way to the vantage point overlooking the Whisperer camp, but there had only been silence. Closing his eyes, Rick took a deep breath and willed the sounds to come. After another few seconds of terrible quiet, he checked in with Heath, who had been left behind to keep an eye on the stadium.

"Heath, any change? Over."

"None. The guards are all still in position. Over."

 _Dammit._

Rick walked over to Jacob, the lead archer. "Something's wrong and I'm going to take a look. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, use your walkie to tell Abraham we're going with Plan B, okay?"

Jacob widened his eyes, knowing Plan B was a far cry from the airtight plan they had all been working on. "Got it."

As Rick holstered his walkie, he turned to run down the hill towards the strip mall. He hadn't gone a hundred yards when a slender, middle aged man, dressed in filthy clothing came barreling out of the brush, a frantic look in his eyes.

Drawing his gun, Rick rushed the man and threw him against the tree, resting the revolver against the man's temple. Pressing his forearm against the man's windpipe, Rick growled, "Start talking."

The man gasped, fighting for air but managed a quick nod. "I...can...help.."

Rick backed away slightly and allowed the man to take a breath. "If this is a trap, I'm going to feed you to the walkers, got it?"

The man nodded more quickly. "Let me explain..."

 **Michonne's Cell**

After searching her cell for several minutes looking for something pointed to pick the lock with, Michonne swore under her breath and walked over to the door, it's thick metal bars impossible to break through. Leaning her head against the door, she could see her katana leaning tantalizingly close against the outer cell wall. As if Alpha wanted to taunt her, _tease_ her by leaving her weapon within sight.

Turning away from the door in frustration, Michonne scanned the walls once again, looking for signs of weakness, any spot that could possibly be breached.

" _Michonne_." Hearing her name whispered frantically as the door squeaked open had her whipping her head around. Her brows drew together in confusion as she spotted the same Whisperer soldier who had drawn Alpha away unlocking her door.

Preparing to rush the slender man and make her escape, Michonne strode toward the door but stopped in her tracks at his next words.

"My name is Dwight and I'm a friend of Negan's. He's waiting for you with Rick at the overlook but we have to _hurry_. Alpha will be back soon."

 _What the..._

Still confused, Michonne acted on instinct, reassured by this man's knowledge of Negan and Rick and followed him out of her cell, grabbing her katana on the way. As they wove stealthily behind the buildings, Michonne noticed crowds of Whisperers headed to one side of the camp, _away_ from them and leaving them a clear path out. Escape her primary concern, Michonne didn't give their activity a second thought. Who was she to question when miracles happened?

Another minute of furtive walking and they found their way clear of the camp, the trail to the overlook straight ahead.

 **Overlook**

"You've got 10 seconds. _Talk_." Rick whispered as he continued to press his gun against the man's temple.

"Michonne and Negan got captured...No, NO, pl-please don't kill me, I'm trying to help!" The man squeaked out as Rick grabbed his shirt and looked at him with murder in his eyes.

Rick's heart pounded as panic and terror clouded his vision. _God, let her be okay_. He had to leave _now_. He had to get her!

"My friend is letting her out. She's okay. She's going to be okay. They're coming up..."

 _AOOOOOO!_

Just then a loud horn sounded and Rick could hear cheering coming up the hill from the Whisperer camp. Dragging the man with him, he made his way to the overlook where he watched as all of the people in the community made their way to an empty fenced in area. Just then, his walkie went off.

"Rick, the guards are leaving. Do you copy. The guards are _leaving_. Over."

Rick looked at the man he had in his grasp, his brows lowering at the relieved expression on his face. _What the hell was going on_? "Copy. Jesus and Aaron, this is it. Go!"

The plan of attack had just been triggered. And Michonne was still out there somewhere.

Turning to the man, Rick let him go but kept the gun trained on him. "Take me to her _now_!"

 **Trail to Overlook**

As Michonne followed the man up the trail away from the camp, she stared at the mask that he had removed as soon as they had cleared the fences and needed more questions answered.

"You said you're a friend of Negan's? You're a Savior?"

Dwight nodded as he continued up the hill. "Yes, I've lived at The Sanctuary since almost the beginning."

"And Negan sent you here to infiltrate The Whisperers?"

Dwight nodded. "He wanted inside intel, how they operated, who their key players were, anything that could give us the advantage when the shit hit the fan."

Michonne's eyes widened at Negan's bold yet crazy plan. "And you just volunteered? For a suicide mission?"

Dwight slowed his pace slightly but kept walking. "No I didn't volunteer. Negan threatened one of his wives, the woman I love, with a great deal of harm and certain death, if I didn't cooperate."

Michonne nodded, the world righting itself once again with the affirmation of Negan's villainy. "That sounds like Negan. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Dwight nodded. "Me too but Negan promised me and Sherry that he'd give us our walking papers and set us up in our own outpost if I succeeded in my mission. And that's what I'm doing right now."

Michonne chuckled as she shook her head. "After springing Negan first, of course."

Dwight's chuckle sounded forced as he picked up the pace once again. "He's the boss after all."

Just as they had almost reached the overlook, the brush ahead of them rustled as Rick and another man came barreling toward them, Rick's eyes frantic with worry. As soon as he spotted Michonne, he holstered his weapon and opened his arms to catch her as she ran to him. Burying his head in the crook of her shoulder, he squeezed her tight and whispered. "Thank God you're okay. You scared the hell out of me!"

Michonne hugged Rick back, the tension that had wired her so tight in the cell leaving her body now that she was where she belonged. _Now_ they could finish this thing the way they had planned.

"I'm fine. Dwight here exceeded expectations and got me out. He deserves _more_ than one outpost for what he did back there."

As Rick loosened his embrace, he raked his gaze over the slim man with dirty blonde hair and a long face and then his eyes zeroed in on the mask dangling from his hands. "Who the hell are you?"

Michonne drew her brows together in confusion. "Negan didn't tell you about Dwight going undercover and helping us escape? How else do you think he made it out of there?"

Rick stepped back and shook his head, more confused than ever. "Negan's not here, Michonne."

Michonne whipped her head to face Dwight, her heart dropping at his apologetic expression. "He told me exactly what to say to get you to leave. He said you've...his words...'got a hero complex worse than even the deputy' and that you'd only leave if you knew he was safe."

And with that, more cheers sounded from the camp and Michonne picked up her sword and ran to the overlook where her archers were standing in wait. As Rick stood next to her, they both watched as a group walkers converged upon a man in the middle of the arena, with Alpha safely observing from a short distance away, her rotted mask masking her smell from the dead.

The man wielded the stick with lethal force and took down walker after walker but there were just too many of them and he was doomed.

As the walkers fell, Michonne got a clear look at his face.

It was Negan.

Dwight drew up to her other side and, in a low tone said, "He wanted me to repeat this message word for word. This is from him." As Michonne turned to face Dwight, he continued, "I had it all wrong sweetheart. The world needs _you_ , not me. Make it right, starting _today_."

Michonne's eyes widened as she swiveled her gaze to the fight below in time to see a second group of walkers being emptied into the arena and immediately head to the middle.

Oh Negan, what have you _done_?

 **Thirty minutes earlier- Negan's Cell**

The hood was removed in time for Negan to watch the door of the primitive cell clang shut and the Whisperer soldiers leave him as they led Michonne away in the opposite direction. Fury swirled through Negan's body, driving him to the entrance of his cell to grip the bars. As Michonne disappeared from sight behind the buildings, Negan turned away and started to explore the cell, inspecting for weaknesses, some escape route, _anything_.

He had to help Michonne. It was fucking _unacceptable_ that those animals had her, that she was at their mercy. That was _not_ supposed to happen today. Negan kicked his booted foot against the dirt and stone wall repeatedly as rage took over and he let it run free.

" _Negan_."

Negan swiveled his head toward the whispered greeting and saw a masked soldier leaning in a relaxed slouch against the door. _Dwight_. The sonovabitch had _done_ it. As he ran over to the door, Negan saw Dwight take out a key, presumably to unlock the door.

"No, wait." Negan commanded, holding up a hand to stop Dwight's movements.

Dwight tilted his head in question, his whisper urgent. "Man, we gotta go now if I'm gonna get you out of here. They're distracted with the other prisoner so we have a clear path."

Negan shook his head. "Plan's changed. You have two minutes to tell me everything about this place and the crazy bitch who runs it. _Everything_."

Wanting to fulfill his part of the bargain, Dwight told Negan everything. It took longer than two minutes but when he was done, he took a step back at the expression on Negan's face, not knowing what to make of it.

Negan felt a calm steal over him, like he always did when he figured shit out. He now knew exactly how they were going to still win the day. Leaning against the door so his mouth was only a few inches from Dwight's ear, Negan told Dwight the plan, shocking the man to his core. He ended with a whispered, "You tell that bitch I want to talk to her. Make it sound good, make it sound big and don't give her options. I want her and her dogs in my cell within the minute, got it?"

Dwight nodded and turned to go, only to be stopped by Negan's low growl.

"You do this Dwight, you do everything as I laid out and you and Sherry get that happy ever after."

Dwight nodded a final time and ran to retrieve Alpha and her soldiers, Negan's words echoing through his head like a surreal greeting card over and over again. This wasn't the man Dwight had served under. This was someone else entirely.

Alpha had no idea who she was dealing with.

Once Dwight left, Negan took a deep breath, walked to the center of the cell and stood tall, brushing off specks of dirt from the sleeves of his leather jacket and smoothing back his hair. Within just a few minutes, he saw people scramble to get out of the way as the bald bitch made her way to his cell, her minions only two steps behind. Pasting on the same smile he used to wear when selling a piece of shit Chevy at Volvo prices, Negan felt the world right itself.

Showtime.

The minute Alpha stepped into the cell, Negan felt revulsion crawl over him. It took a shit ton of wrong to disgust him in this fucked up world but this woman had evil with a capital Manson written all over her emotionless face. As she tilted her head in seeming curiosity, her eyes looked him up and down as if he were an animal on display for her entertainment.

 _Fuck this shit. Let's do this._

Widening his smile, Negan stood his ground, knowing that her ghouls would send him sprawling if he walked one step towards their leader. That's okay, he could say his piece from where he was.

"Hey there! Name's Negan. I'm glad to finally meet you."

Alpha raised her eyebrow but remained silent.

"Your boys here got it all wrong. I didn't come here to attack you. Why would I seek to harm the very leader I want to make a deal with?"

Alpha's wide set eyes, void of expression, twitched just a bit. He had her attention.

"I'm the leader of multiple communities in Virginia, including the one where your daughter is staying."

"You mean where my daughter is being held _captive_." Alpha hissed, her ire fueled at the mention of Lydia.

Negan changed tactics and sent her a beseeching smile. "Your daughter is safe and will remain safe. I'm here in good faith to help you and, in turn help myself. You're the leader of a thriving community..." Negan swallowed down the bile at the lie and continued, "...and you've figured it out. _So have I_. I have farmers, soldiers, a shit ton of guns, cars, electricity, you name it. I've got control over the entire D.C. area and am looking to expand. You've got control of southern Maryland and I just bet..." his grin broadened to Salesman of the Year levels, "...you're looking into getting some prime real estate near our nation's former capitol, am I right?"

Alpha smiled and chuckled softly seemingly against her will. He had her. "What do you propose Mr. Negan?"

"Enter into an alliance with me. I rule Virginia and you rule Maryland and we access each other's lands unmolested. You get your daughter back and I become known as the man who brokered a deal with the D..."

"Careful Mr. Negan."

Negan chuckled as he continued, "devilishly brilliant Alpha. The woman who could control the dead. We could be legends in our own time. I could be the brawn to your brain, whattaya say?"

And it was that last sentence that sealed the deal as Negan saw the glimmer of excitement light Alpha's eyes.

" _Brawn_ you say? Interesting. I see a tall muscular man before me, that is true. You may be strong but I will not enter into any alliance on a leap of faith, you must understand. No, I'll need you to pass the same test I make all of my challengers pass.."

Negan forced his brows to meet in confusion, " _Challenger_? Lady, I'm here as a friend, not a..."

Alpha shook her head as she gestured to her soldiers who each walked forward to take an arm. "We'll meet in the arena, Mr. Negan and if you beat me, you rule me. I co-lead with _no one_. That is not our way here."

And with that, Negan walked to his fate as a loud horn sounded.

You can really take the measure of a man as he walked to his death and Negan was proud that he didn't weep, he didn't beg, he didn't try to run. He strode toward the fenced off field that they called an arena like a man who had balls of steel and knew how to use them. For most of his life, he had done what he had to in order to put a roof over his head, drink and eat _what_ he wanted and get pussy _when_ he wanted. After the world went to hell, he had to work a little harder but he had figured it out. He let all of that knowledge fuel him now that his end was near.

As Negan entered the arena to loud cheers from the masked minions hanging on the fence, the servant class watching quietly behind them, he indulged himself with flashes of his time with Michonne. Their first meeting where she busted balls, their hunting the dead together, their meals together and then, a year ago, the mercy she had shown him after he had let their leaders die.

He barely allowed Alpha's cloying voice to interrupt his thoughts as she instructed him to choose his weapon. Instinctually picking up the heavy five foot long stick, Negan played through his memories once more, wanting these next minutes to be filled with beauty and not ugliness. _Never_ ugliness.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alpha pull on a mask of rotted flesh in order to hide her smell and he tuned out all sounds but his own breathing, his own heartbeat. Alpha didn't know it but Negan was exactly where he wanted to be, where he _needed_ to be. He was done with this shit show of a world, with its rotted corpses and daily chaos. He was done trying to figure out where he fit and being angry all the time.

Alpha thought she was executing a usurper. Putting a big brawny challenger down. Instead, she was letting him go out a hero. Letting him fight to buy Michonne the time she needed to not only escape but to bring the reign of hell down upon this pathetic community and burn it to the ground.

As the truck load of corpses were released into the arena, Negan ignored the sting from the fresh cuts that had been sliced into his forearms as bait to the dead. He ignored the cheers, ignored Alpha's tilted head and, instead, raised his stick and thought of Michonne.

And with each crushed skull, with each pierced rotted brain, Negan heard his steady heartbeat, the rhythm of his breathing and promised to give them a hellava show. After all, each minute he entertained, he brought his allies closer to victory.

Negan smiled, raising his stick again and again and again.

 **Overlook**

"He _planned_ this? To fight in there?" Rick's rasp sounded from over Michonne's shoulder, shaking her out of her moment of shock as she watched Negan fighting against the walkers, willing the cars in their army to move faster so that they had a chance to rescue him.

In her heart, though, she knew Negan was doomed. And, what she couldn't get over was that he knew that too.

Dwight nodded in response to Rick's question. "He told me that you all needed a distraction and, most importantly, Michonne needed to escape and to live. Once I told him about the arena fights, he made up his mind that that was the answer to everything." Dwight looked down at the camp, disbelief causing him to shake his head, "The Negan I know would never sacrifice himself like that. He would have thrown anyone in that ring but himself. I don't get it but there he is."

Michonne felt Rick's hand on her shoulder and she looked up into his understanding gaze, his eyes telling her what she already knew.

Negan, a murderous tyrannical leader, was sacrificing himself for _her_ , so that she could live and get her victory.

Closing her eyes against the morbid scene below, Michonne took a deep breath as certainty stole over her, as her helplessness transformed into determination and as her sadness became strength. Walking over to stand near her archers, Michonne picked up the bow she had spent the past year learning how to use and picked up an arrow. Looking back at Rick, she asked how far the cars were from their places.

Rick nodded, knowing what Michonne intended to do and walked towards her, picking up the rifle from its place on the ground. She wouldn't finish this on her own.

"Another few minutes and they should be there."

Michonne nodded her head then turned to Dwight and the older man, who had introduced himself as Roy, and gave them their final marching orders. The men nodded in agreement, eager to help, and took off running back down to the camp to await their signal.

As Rick pulled the strap of the rifle over his head and tested the site line down to arena, he was humbled by the woman standing next to him. He was humbled by her strength, her instincts and her ability to lead. She was more than his equal and he loved her for it. There would be losses today but there would be victory as well.

All due to one woman who had brought enemies together to do the impossible.

Rick would spend the rest of his days loving Michonne and creating a future she deserved and, yes, a future _he_ deserved as well. They had earned it.

But today? Today they fight.

 **Whisperer Camp**

Negan's vision was starting to blur with exhaustion as he put down the last corpse with a crushing blow to the skull. The cheers had only grown louder with each blow so it looked like he'd won Alpha's soldiers over at least. As he looked over at the truck pulling up the entrance of the arena, he sighed and squinted up to the sun. Impressing his new fans wasn't enough to have them stop his execution apparently, as the door to the truck slid open and a second wave of the dead ambled toward him.

He saluted Alpha with his middle finger and gave her a cocky grin. He then looked over at the crowd and shouted, "Some leader you have! Sitting there behind her mask all cozy and safe." Turning to Alpha, Negan beckoned with a finger, "Come on sweetheart, pick up a stick and join the party. Earn your stripes you cowardly bitch!"

His words went ignored of course, but Negan was happy to see her back away from him by a few feet.

As the dead descended upon him, he had the strength to knock out a few but they quickly surrounded him as he wasn't as fast on his feet and he felt blinding pain as teeth bit down on his shoulder and his bicep in tandem. With a shot of adrenaline, Negan stumbled back and was able to deliver death blows to his immediate attackers but knew he was dead man walking at this point.

 **Overlook & Whisperer's Camp**

"Rick, we're ready." Jesus' voice over the radio triggered a series of movements at the overlook. Rick told Jesus to wait for their signal and Michonne and her archers took their positions. Michonne's archers dipped their arrow tips, soaked in oil into the small flames they had burning at their feet and aimed in concert. On Michonne's signal, they let their flaming arrows fly.

Those arrows found their target, right in the middle of Alpha's wooden shelter. The shelter immediately went up in an inferno of flames, which was Jesus' signal to do his part. Within seconds, a dozen cars, coming from a multitude of directions, each with their own herd of walkers from the stadium, crashed through the camp fences, allowing two thousand corpses to amble their way into the community, drawn towards the flames shooting fifteen feet into the sky.

As soon as the arrows landed, both Negan and Alpha looked towards the direction they came from, Negan with a grin of satisfaction and, while Alpha's expression was hidden by her mask, her shock was clear with her stagger backwards.

Michonne turned to Rick and he nodded. They each had their job to do. Michonne notched her arrow, aimed and let it fly, taking satisfaction in watching it embed itself in Alpha's right thigh. She had considered shooting her in the eye but indulged in the satisfaction of hobbling her and allowing the spurt of fresh blood draw the nearby walkers. Letting her rage consume her, Michonne let another arrow fly to hit Alpha's left leg.

Satisfied that the woman was going to be consumed within minutes, Michonne turned to Negan and met his gaze as he pushed back a nearby walker. Most of the walkers that had been attacking him were now drawn to the fire and the screaming Whisperers but a few remained for him to take down and he was losing steam.

Negan grinned up at Michonne, happy that she was going to be the last thing he saw before the end. As the sunlight glinted off the scope of the rifle being aimed by the deputy, Negan gave him a quick nod, knowing that it would help to assuage any guilt Rick would feel by shooting him, and then turned again to Michonne. He liked to imagine that there were tears in her eyes as she stared down at him but of course she was too far away to know for sure.

 _Goodbye sweetheart. Kick this world's ass..._

And then...darkness.

Brushing at the moisture running down her cheeks as she watched Negan fall with the shot Rick delivered to his head, Michonne shook her head and swiveled her gaze to Alpha, satisfied with the leader being converged upon by the dead and imagined the new shrieks of pain echoing through the valley came from her as she met her end in the same way she had forced on so many of her people.

So, after a week of planning, a week of bringing three communities together to defeat a foe larger than them, their plan came together at last.

It was Hilltop's archers who set the shelter ablaze as bait for the herd.

It was Jesus and Aaron's knowledge of the area and their planning that set the routes for the cars to make their approach.

Rick and Abraham's experience with using cars to herd walkers enabled them to lead the dead from the stadium to the camp.

The Saviors supplied the well maintained cars to allow for a quiet approach as well as the guns which allowed for the allied soldiers to pick off the Whisperers as they made their escape.

And, it was Michonne's knowledge of the ancient warfare tactic of encirclement that allowed their forces to trap their enemy with no escape and no hope for survival.

But it was Negan, the mortal enemy of Rick, the man who had stolen and murdered as he established his kingdom of subjects and ruled through fear, who had thought ahead to plant a spy. It was Negan who had learned from his childhood friend, Connor, how important it was to have a man on the inside, a man who could provide information and make the difference between living and dying.

It was Negan who had made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good. Going against his instincts to save himself, to _always_ think of himself, and offer himself up as a distraction and as a means for the woman he admired, respected and, yes, possibly even loved, to live.

And, now, as the dead overran the camp that was once a home _and_ a prison, Alexandrians, Saviors and soldiers from the Hilltop worked in concert to kill the few masked soldiers who were able to make it past that herd, shooting them from the safety of their cover behind the cars and using sniper rifles from the overlook.

And, while evil fell, Dwight and Roy led the innocent, the victimized, through the small corner of the camp that Rick told them would be left alone. They didn't all make it but many did and they would spend the rest of their lives contributing to the very society that had saved them.

Watching the battle play out below them, Michonne and Rick looked at each other, confirming without words what they had always known. They would _never_ be leaders to stay out of the trenches. Giving Michonne a small smile, Rick drew his Colt Python and Michonne drew her katana and, after a quick squeeze of their hands, they took off running to join the fight. No Whisperer soldier would breathe after today was done.

And as the two leaders ran down the hill, the extremely _unlucky_ Beta hobbled towards them, his harsh face twisted in panic.

Without breaking her stride, Michonne slashed his throat and kept running. Rick didn't waste a bullet to stop the Whisperer from turning. He could spend _eternity_ haunting these hills for all he cared.

And, in less than an hour, victory was theirs.

 **Rendezvous Point**

After the last Whisperer soldier had been put down, the Allied soldiers had used fire to destroy the herd of walkers and it had taken another couple of hours to wipe the former camp clean of the living _and_ the dead.

Now, as the sun was setting on a historic day, the battle weary men and women met at the same stretch of road they had started from what seemed a lifetime ago. The Whisperer refugees were safely on board three trucks confiscated from the camp, with each of the truckloads going to a different community. Rick and Michonne were careful to make certain families and friends stayed together in order to give them a positive start on their new lives.

Abraham volunteered to take a contingent of men to The Sanctuary to establish order in that community but a large, taciturn Savior by the man of Arch stepped up and shocked them all.

"Negan might not have told you this but Dwight has always been the man who got shit done at The Sanctuary and we all respect him. It drove Negan crazy, how liked Dwight was, and that's probably why he sent him here as a snitch. You don't need to babysit us. Just put him in charge and we'll keep the alliance."

Michonne turned to Dwight, taking in the pink tinge on his pale cheeks at the praise from the Savior who towered over him. "Dwight, is this true? Will there be a peaceful transfer of power when you go back?"

Dwight nodded and stood taller as he breathed deep. "I've been there since Negan established The Sanctuary and, yes, most but just a few of his inner circle look to me for direction. They've just been too scared to make it public. With Arch and a few others, I can keep Negan's cronies under control."

Rick walked up to Dwight and cupped his shoulder, handing him a revolver and knife to arm himself with. "Thank you Dwight, for everything you did today. We would have suffered heavy losses if you didn't help us." Rick looked at Michonne. " _Unacceptable_ losses."

Dwight swallowed and nodded as he took the weapons from the man he had come to respect in the short time he'd known him. He knew Rick Grimes was a man of honor and courage and was someone he would continue to align himself with. Holstering his gun and sheathing his knife, he looked over at Michonne, humbled by the air of leadership she gave off. This was who Negan had died for and that was no small thing.

Dwight walked over to the woman he considered his leader and, stopping within a couple of feet from her, nodded his head as he said his goodbye.

"The Hilltop and Alexandria will always have The Sanctuary at your backs, I promise you that."

Michonne nodded her head in return and smiled, her beauty shining through, even covered with dirt and blood. "Stay well Dwight and thank you. For _everything_. We'll radio you when we're ready to meet."

And with that, Dwight, The Saviors and their Whisperer refugees left.

As Abraham organized the Alexandrians into the vehicles, Jesus walked up to Michonne and Rick, Aaron by his side. Michonne tilted her head, liking the picture the two men made as they walked in tandem towards her. Holding her arms open, Michonne pulled Jesus into a fierce hug, so grateful that her best friend had survived the day. So grateful that he was going to continue to be by her side as they carved out their future.

Stepping out of the hug after giving Michonne a tight squeeze, Jesus cupped Michonne's face and dipped his head to meet her eyes with his bright ones. "We did good today. All because of you."

Michonne's vision blurred at the unconditional support Jesus gave her. "It wasn't perfect and we lost some but, yeah, we did good."

Knowing that Michonne was referring to Negan, Jesus nodded and let his hand fall to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. "Every war worth fighting will produce great loss. And it's through that loss that we remember what it was we were fighting _for_. A wise woman once told me that."

Michonne smiled through her tears as Jesus reminded her of some philosophizing she had done one night after a few glasses of wine. Little did she know that her ramblings would bring her comfort one day.

"You're right. Now that we've won, we've got to make it all worthwhile. That's the hard part."

Jesus smiled as he backed up a step, watched as Aaron gave Michonne a supportive smile and nod, then continued with his goodbye. "I'll take care of Hilltop in your absence as I'm sure you'll want to head to Alexandria with Rick for now. Don't worry about a thing."

Michonne smiled at Jesus' presumption but, as always, he knew her well, and he knew where her heart lay. "Are you sure? It's a lot. Telling Lydia about Alpha, burying Jim and telling Amanda about his death...making sure the injured are..."

"Michonne, it's okay. I have help." And with that, Jesus threw a grin Aaron's way who blushed slightly while smiling back.

Michonne grinned, feeling a lightness of spirit she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. "Well, then, I'll let you and your...helper...get going. Check in through the radio when you're home."

And with that, her people left and Michonne was alone with Rick for the first time since the battle began, the Alexandrian soldiers waiting for them in their cars and trucks a short distance away. As Michonne took a deep breath and looked down at the valley where plumes of gray smoke rose to the sky, Rick came up from behind and wrapped his hands around her arms, giving them a loving squeeze. Dipping his head, he whispered the only words she needed to hear in that moment.

"I love you."

Closing her eyes, Michonne let hope take root in her heart as she felt surrounded by this man's support, faith and, yes, _love_.

Today had been for war. Today had dealt them losses. But tomorrow? Tomorrow she would be at this man's side and together they would show this world a new way.

Lifting her hand to squeeze Rick's, Michonne opened her eyes as she turned to him with a gentle smile.

"Let's go home."

 **Hilltop - Two Months Later**

"Carl! Wait till you see how good I've gotten with the bow. Maddy's been working with me every day and she says I'm one of the best archers now!" Lydia's excited chatter echoed through the courtyard as the girl led an indulgent Carl away from the rest of the Alexandrians who had arrived for the summit meeting.

Michonne chuckled as she shook her head, enjoying the youthful energy that emanated from Lydia these days, an energy that had been suffocated under her mother's rule. While this was only her second visit to The Hilltop since the war had ended, Michonne had spoken with Lydia every day through the radio, sometimes in the morning to ask her what she had planned for the day and other times at night before she went to bed, checking to make sure all was well.

Lydia was thriving in her new home. She was physically more healthy, having filled out her slender frame, and the gauntness in her face had been replaced by fuller cheeks and glowing skin. She was an active member of the community, willing to learn anything and everything about farming and windmills, churning butter, even shoeing horses. She was starved for information and was friends with everyone. Even though Michonne didn't live with Lydia, she was in good hands because an entire community had adopted her as their own.

As Michonne looked over at Glenn and Maggie, her heart warmed with excitement at the news that she would share with Lydia later. She was about to get two more people in her life. Two people who Michonne knew would be a steady and positive influence on the young girl.

After accompanying Rick and Michonne on their visit last month, Glenn and Maggie had decided to move to the farming community for good so that Maggie could get back to her roots and Glenn could help Aaron and Jesus with their initiative to put up a cell tower and attempt to re-introduce telecommunications to their area. It was a slow go but Glenn was excited to dive in as that had been his area of study before leaving college for financial reasons.

So, in addition with meeting Dwight later in the afternoon, Michonne and Rick were here to establish Glenn and Maggie as Hilltop's new leaders since Jesus made it clear last month he wasn't interested in the position. He liked his role as advisor and runner and he and Aaron (now a fixture by Jesus' side) wanted to also focus on advancing their plans to build up technical and utility infrastructure once again.

Perhaps the modern world wasn't completely lost after all.

Rick clasped Michonne's hand in his, feeling at peace, as he always did when she was near. As they walked from the gate to the mansion, Rick tipped his face to the sun and let the warmth wash over him. The time since that day in Maryland had passed in a blur yet he remembered every single moment as the treasures that they were.

Michonne had easily settled into his home and become an integral part of his family. Carl grew to accept his facial scarring due to Michonne's support and the bandage was a footnote in his history. Judith became Michonne's shadow. Her first steps were to run to Michonne's open arms and every other word out of her mouth was 'mama' which was the only name she used when referring to the woman who had changed all of their lives.

And for Rick? Well, his heart had never known such happiness and his mind had never known such peace. There was still danger every day, they still lived with the dead and there were no guarantees, but as long as he woke up to watch Michonne sleeping beside him, and as long as he could make her smile, laugh in turn at her dry wit and, well, simply _love_ her, the rest of it fell away.

Their alliance with The Saviors was strong and they were three highly functioning communities ready to take the step together to rebuild the world. They would create government, schooling, infrastructure, formal trade agreements and yes a military. They would work together to right the wrongs of those who came before them. Politicians who had ignored the voices of those they served. Zealots who believed their way was the _only_ way. Those people had their chance and the world died. The ones who were left to pick up the pieces would respect what remained and would make it right.

But before one could build a world, one had to take care of his _immediate_ priorities. And Rick didn't want another minute to go by without taking care of the priority right next to him.

As Michonne walked up the steps to the wide open portico, she breathed deep the fresh air around her as contentment took seed. It was amazing how much her life had changed in just a few months. How taking in a frightened young girl had led to meeting the love of her life as well as renewing the acquaintance of a man she had banished. She didn't think of Negan very often these days but when she did, she remembered him fondly, as she felt she owed him at least that. He had made many mistakes in his life but she owed him her life and the lives of many of her people so her memories of him would be only good ones.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts and focus on the summit agenda, Michonne made to step into the house but was stopped by Rick's hand on her arm. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Rick gesture to the small table by the rail and sat across from him.

Michonne tilted her head as she saw Rick's fingers rub together, something he did when he was nervous. Covering his twitching hand with hers, Michonne felt his hand still, as it always did when she touched him. She loved that power she had over this fearless man, loved that she could bring him the same peace he brought to her.

"What is it?" Michonne asked.

Rick looked up from their joined hands and then up to meet her beautiful brown eyes, a feeling of rightness consuming him.

 _Let's do this Grimes. Don't screw it up._

"Sixty eight days ago, I met you at this very spot. I was mad at the world and then you walked through that door," a nod towards the front door of the mansion, "and took my breath away. I had never met a woman like you. A fighter like me but a whole lot prettier." Rick smiled at Michonne's flashing grin and continued, "I saw what you had built here and I knew you were my equal, _better_ than my equal if I was honest with myself."

Michonne's heart started to race as she felt Rick building up to something. His nervousness, the special setting, it was all adding up to ...something...she just hoped he got to it before he lost his nerve as she saw sweat bead at his forehead. Her adorable man. God, how she loved him.

"As I got to know you, I realized that the world _hadn't_ gone completely wrong after all. The world still had possibilities, still had hope..." Rick leaned forward as he caressed the top of her hand with his finger as he whispered, "because no world could be bad with you in it. It wouldn't _dare_."

Michonne put her free hand over her chest as her vision blurred with tears that welled up.

"Michonne Renee Sauveterre, I love you. I want to live the rest of my days with you by my side. I want to lead with you, grow old with you and give you reason to smile a hundred times a day." Rick pulled a small box out of his pocket and smiled at Michonne's gasp. Sitting straight in his chair, Rick thought of how far they had come since that day when they had first struck their alliance.

Rick opened the box to reveal a vintage, delicate ring, the antique gold band a perfect setting for the pear shaped sapphire nestled on top. When he had started his search for a ring about a month ago while going out on runs with Abraham, Rick had quickly decided to look for a colored gemstone instead of a diamond as Michonne deserved to have the token of his love for her to be as vibrant and full of life as she was.

Based on the happy tears running down Michonne's face, Rick determined he had made the right choice. Pushing back his chair, Rick bent on one knee against Michonne's head shake of a protest. Taking her left hand in his, Rick placed a loving kiss on her smooth knuckles, then looked into her eyes once again.

"Michonne, will you marry me?"

Her heart filled to bursting, Michonne smiled through her tears, clasped Rick's dear, handsome face between her hands and nodded vigorously, barely getting out a whispered, 'Yes' before Rick's mouth claimed hers in kiss that marked her as his.

And, as was their way, she kissed him right back, marking him as hers.

It was quite a number of minutes later when they made their way into the house to meet up with the others, Michonne proudly wearing the most beautiful ring in the world (in her humble opinion) and the two of them grinning from ear to ear as they were congratulated from their friends and family.

It was a good day to be alive.

 **Alexandria- 4 AV (After the Turn)**

As Michonne adjusted her necklace, the simple gold chain with her initial on it, she smiled, remembering the day Mike and Andre had given it to her. It was Mother's Day, over six years earlier, and Andre, a ball of energy brimming with excitement, woke her up with a bounce on her bed, his little fingers tickling her stomach to force her eyes open with a laugh.

 _Her little peanut_. He had been so excited to give her a necklace with the letter that not only started her name but also stood for 'mommy'. As she opened the box, he wrapped his arms around her neck and said with a rare burst of seriousness, "Now you always have me with you, Mommy."

Those words echoed back through the years that had raced by, years where he had lived on inside her heart instead of by her side. Swiping at the moisture on her cheeks, Michonne took a breath and smoothed down the dark purple silk of her knee length sleeveless dress.

With one last look at the mirror and a pat to her upswept hair, Michonne left her bedroom and walked downstairs where Rick was waiting to escort her down the street.

 _It was time._

As Rick placed her hand in the crook of his arm and they started down the sidewalk, she stole a look at her handsome husband, admiring the gray that had always been in his trimmed beard but had now spread into the depths of his curly hair. He had kept those curls long to indulge her as she loved to thread her fingers through them when they kissed and made love.

And Rick loved to keep Michonne very happy and very indulged in those areas.

As they neared the gathering up ahead, Michonne felt a wave of emotion consume her and she wobbled slightly on the heels she wore.

"Steady now, it wouldn't do for the leader of Virginia to scrape her knees right before such an important occasion, now would it?"

Rick's drawled rasp in her ear may have caused her to stumble _again_ a long time ago but she had grown accustomed to his tremendous appeal and had learned to cope with it. Instead, she allowed his words and stronger hold on her arm to soothe her.

She _was_ the leader after all.

The past two years had been a revolution of the living taking the world back from the dead. Rick and Michonne's alliances had grown as they came across other communities in Virginia and beyond. A community of women near the ocean, a community on the outskirts of D.C. called The Kingdom, run by a charismatic yet eccentric man with a pet tiger and many more. When before they had felt alone and isolated, they now knew that mankind still had a shot and could beat this thing.

The people who didn't have uses during the dark times of constant war and fighting, the Eugene's and Wilson's of the world, the academics and computer geeks, were the new heroes as they figured out how to make cars run on solar power and how to mass produce ammunition of all calibers.

And just six months ago, they had celebrated the first phone call between Jesus and Michonne via the brand new cellular network Jesus, Glenn and Aaron had started with the first cell tower at The Hilltop.

The past winter had seen the first deep freeze in years and Rick, while out on a run with Heath and Abraham, had discovered that walkers could freeze in place since they had no flowing blood to warm their body temperature.

Their communities had banded together and cleared out the entire National Mall area (including the coveted Smithsonian and all of its knowledge contained within) of walkers before the thaw and had every intention to do the same thing this coming winter.

Little by little, day by day, they were taking this world back and it felt damn good.

As Michonne and Rick approached the crowd ahead, it parted to reveal the building that had just been finished the day before. A building that represented hope, that stood for the possibility of a future, of generations yet to come.

Rick kissed his beautiful wife on the cheek, wanting her to have this moment to herself as this building was her special project. He was so proud of Michonne, of all that she had accomplished in just two short years. They had found a way to lead, utilizing their strengths to the benefit of everyone around them. While Michonne built up a brand new government, worked to establish laws and pathways to commerce, Rick built up what had started as a multi-community band of soldiers and then grew to a military with bases, armories and officers of rank. If Michonne was the White House, Rick was the Pentagon, such as they were, and that suited them both just fine.

But their home was and always would be in the town behind walls in Alexandria and today, Michonne would see her dream come to fruition. Stepping away from his wife, Rick joined Glenn and Maggie, taking their adorable toddler son (and his godson), Hershel, from Maggie's arms to relieve her from the child's excited squirming. As Baby Hershel immediately started patting his bearded cheek, Rick watched as Carl, now a young man as tall as he was, but even broader in the shoulder, escort Judith to meet Michonne at the end of the sidewalk.

Michonne's hand covered her heart as emotion overcame her. Her whole family, everyone who was important to her, had come out for this special occasion. Glenn and Maggie, with Lydia beaming a smile at her from their side. Jesus and Aaron, hands clasped as they stood near the entrance of the new building, waiting to give her a congratulatory hug. Abraham, Maddy and Roger. They were all there to show their support. And, of course, every citizen of Alexandria, which over the past couple years had grown and grown to the point where they had to move the walls out to the surrounding area. They were three hundred strong now and the crowd lined the street or stood on nearby porches and lawns, holding signs and balloons in solidarity.

But all of those people fell away in a blur as the little girl who had laid claim to her heart two short years ago, broke free from her brother's grasp and ran towards Michonne, a bouquet of purple balloons tied around her tiny wrist. As Judith reached her, Michonne bent down and swooped her up into her arms, giving her a gentle squeeze. Carl strode up to her shortly after and Michonne gave the teenager a hug with her free arm, not wanting to embarrass him with anything more demonstrative.

Today was a good day. As Judith laid her head on Michonne's shoulder and her quiet breaths fanned Michonne's cheek, she looked at Carl, the boy who had been so full of anger when she had first met him, now standing strong and tall next to her, the boy who had showed her it was okay to love like a mother once again, smiling at her with understanding and connection.

Finally, she looked past the children to meet the gaze of her husband, the man who had ridden into Hilltop like Gary Cooper and stole her heart. Today was for him as well. The hope for the future, the hope for them all was also for the man who had lost so much, just as she had.

Tiny fingers brushed the tears from Michonne's cheek and she turned her gaze to meet Judith's wide eyes just a couple inches from her own.

"These are happy tears, right Mama?"

Michonne closed her eyes, saw a clear image of Andre asking her for the bunny book to be read one last time and nodded her head before letting that image fade away as she opened her eyes once again.

"Yes, love, they're happy tears."

Judith nodded with resolution, determined to get to the next item on the agenda. Lifting her wrist, she pointed to the dangling ribbon anchoring the balloons to her.

"Can we give Andre his balloons now?"

Michonne smiled as she nodded to Carl who stepped over to untie the ribbon. Curling Judith's fingers over the loose ribbon and holding onto it with his own, Carl dipped his head toward his little sister with a 'Ready?' and then upon her nod, they both let go and the bouquet of purple balloons took flight into the sky, accompanied by Judith's clapping and shouts of glee.

Putting a squirming Judith back down on the ground, Michonne let the little girl grab her hand while Carl took the other and the two children of her heart escorted her to the new building just as Roger unveiled the engraved sign he had finished the day before. As Michonne read the words, her thoughts took one more flight.

 _Oh Peanut, mommy wishes you were here. I miss you sweetie but I'll see you someday. I have some more work to do first._

And with that, Michonne followed her family into the newly opened _Andre Sauveterre Elementary School_.

They had found their future and it was with each other.

And through the years, as Carl grew into manhood, fell in love and started a family of his own and as Judith grew into a young woman as fearless and brave as the woman who had raised her, Michonne knew what it was to love and be loved. And Rick spent every day of his life filled with purpose, with determination to make the world a better place for the family that meant everything to him.

They tamed a world gone wrong through the most powerful and fundamental of human emotion. Through what separates us from animals, from our base selves.

Love.

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this version of Rick and Michonne's love story as much as I enjoyed writing it! When I first conceived of the idea for the plot, I knew exactly how it was going to end, with Negan sacrificing himself for the woman he admired above all others and maybe, _just maybe_ , to do one good thing in his life. See, he wasn't all bad after all! I hope you saw the seeds I planted early on come to fruition in the end as I think I enjoyed outlining the plot _almost_ as much as I enjoyed Rick being so heart eyes about his Queen! It was hard to let this story end but I was determined to do it in 16 chapters to give you a 'season of love'.**

 **Please check out the epilogue that follows to see how Baby Judith (our philosophical narrator) turned out!**

 **I'd love to know your thoughts about this chapter, how this story ended, as well as what you thought of the story as a whole. I know it wasn't pure romance but it was a story I felt compelled to share and I'd love your feedback as it fuels the writing machine!**

 **Thank you all for your support, your reviews, your critiques and, well, for simply reading my story. Without all of you, I wouldn't be doing this so please know that I appreciate the partnership we have as I love sharing the love for our show and our ship!**


	17. Epilogue

**The White House 90 AV**

 _Miss Judith_. That's what they call me now that I'm in the sunset of my years. Not my married name or even my famous name of Grimes. No, these days, I'm _Miss Judith_. I think it's because I've become a maternal figure to our fledgling country and everyone feels like I'm part of _their_ family.

And that's fine by me. As the social butterfly of my family, I've always loved being surrounded by people. Now, at the tender age of 89, well, I don't have a whole lot of my real family left. So if strangers want to embrace me and have me tell my stories to them, I won't turn them down.

So... here I sit, waiting for my turn at the podium out there on the White House lawn near a huge garden filled with roses. I'm an old hand at these things by now. This is my fifth presidential inauguration and I know my part well.

I'm one of the oldest people left in the world, having been born during the darkest of days after The Turn. My parents had been the earliest leaders of the New World and, as such, well I'm the closest thing to Royalty this country has.

Joke's on them though. I've never acted like royalty a day in my life. My mama did all she could to make me sit still long enough to learn to read and count and write. Okay, I may have learned more than that over time but it wasn't nearly as fun as going on runs, putting down walkers and, well, just plain old fighting. My Daddy called me Legend (as in legend in the making) and my Mama called me Love.

I think I ended up somewhere in between those two big words. I like to think I did anyway. I adored my parents and I adored my big brother and all I ever wanted to do in my life was make them proud. I was so lucky to grow up with my biggest heroes and to be raised by them. To learn from their strengths and, even more importantly, their mistakes.

I was a Child of the Apocalypse, born during the Dawn of the darkest of times. My birth mother sacrificed herself so I could live and my brother had to put her down after. How does one make a life that's _worth_ all of that? How does one do _enough_ good, make _enough_ of a difference to make up for the sacrifices others made so I could live?

I did my best. And I did damned well if I say so myself. If my Mama and Daddy were here, they'd spend the next hour bragging about my accomplishments. My loving marriage to one of the few men in the world worthy of Judith Grimes (my Daddy's words, not mine). My beautiful, strong children and grandchildren to carry on the Grimes line and keep this world going (my Mama always doted on my little ones and was happiest with them bouncing on her knee). The history books I wrote in order to finish Mama's body of work so that generations to come would always know how humankind went wrong and turned the world against us for a time.

They would brag about my thirty year career in government but I would stop them there because, well, _no one_ from those darker days could take a seat on the sidelines as the sidelines _weren't there_. We all had to do our part to rebuild this country and, over time, help our fellow men and women doing the same across the oceans.

As I sit here in the quiet of this oval shaped room, a room that has stood the test of time _and_ the end of the world, I feel the ache of old age creep in through my bones and I appreciate the comfort of the blue velvet cushions on the settee I sit upon.

I'm tired. Oh, I've got a few years in me yet, I know. I still practice firing the weapon I keep holstered at my hip. I still pull back a bow string now and again and every morning I practice my positions with the katana my parents gifted me when I was twenty five. But I'm slow and came to the realization long ago that my fighting days are behind me.

Not that there is much fighting to be had anymore.

My good friend Hershel and I were two of the first children tested, four years into the Turn, when there was medical research established to study the Virus. We were found to be virus free which meant that the disease that ended our world couldn't be passed onto the next generation and it would die out with those who were alive at The Turn.

There was a lot of celebrating that day.

And as the winters got colder again with climate change a thing of the past, the walkers froze by the millions and were methodically destroyed, incinerated and just wiped out. Eventually, with depleted food sources, increased lethargy and simple biochemistry, the walkers in the warmer climates simply rotted away.

By the year 50 AV, the last walker was sighted and put down by a feisty monk in Tibet. We celebrated that day as well.

So as our world, with a fraction of the population it had decades earlier, learned to walk on its toddler feet, learned to put sustainable cars back on the road, rebuild hospitals, colleges, and to network computers, it also made a promise to itself.

 _Never forget_. Never forget what happened to the people who took our world for granted, who didn't value each day of life they were given. _Never_ forget how an abused world got a restart when most of its inhabitants perished during The Turn and the chaotic days that followed.

My father remembered. My mother remembered. My brother remembered.

And, _I_ remember. I am a Child of the Apocalypse and I have treasured every single day that I've been given and every single gift my family gave me to make me who I am.

My father, Rick Grimes, gave me resilience, fearlessness, strength, unwavering loyalty and a steady hand to hold a heavy gun.

My mother, Michonne Sauveterre Grimes, gave me the capacity to set no limits, to open my heart to strangers and to believe we could coax the world back into our keeping with gratitude not force.

My brother, Carl Grimes, gave me my first best friend and my first real hero, as he showed me endless patience, unconditional love and taught me that everything he could do, well, I might just be able to do better.

I love that I get to tell their stories everywhere I go. People always ask me about my family, how they lived, how they loved and what were the truths versus the myths.

I just smile and tilt my head in response. "Myths? When it comes to the Grimes family, there are no myths. Those stories are all true my friends, all very true."

I stand up now and make my way to the garden, the bright sun beating down on my face. As I approach the podium, the applause and cheers fade away as I look to the blue sky and recall one of my earliest memories, a sunny day long ago where I held a bouquet of bright purple balloons with my brother and let them go so that the brother of my heart would know he was loved.

I smile, brush a tear from my eye and feel the love of my family fill my heart on this special day.

And I speak:

 _'Let us be forever grateful, forever mindful, forever righteous. Let us take care of each other, the grass we stand on, the air we breathe, the oceans we will cross, the mountains we will climb.'_

 _Those were the words my parents taught me before I could read and the words I will say until there are no more words to be spoken._

 _Let me tell you a story from the earliest days of our New History. The days before I knew how to run, before I knew to be afraid._

 _It's the story of two warriors who sought strength with each other, an alliance. They were wary, cautious because the world had made that way._

 _Do not forget them, my friends. They were the flawed. The human. The brave. They were the ones who rose up out of the rubble of the new world to vanquish the dead and to put down the evil that flourished. They fought and sacrificed so that we may not just survive but **live**. _

And as I tell my favorite story, the love story of my parents, my fingers tap the holster holding my father's Colt Python, its heavy weight a reminder of the impact he and Michonne and Carl left on me.

Everything we do in life, today and the rest of our days, is for the very thing that makes us the most human.

Love.

 **A/N: The real world is a daunting place these days and I've struggled with what it means to be a citizen of my country and what duty I have to try to spread kindness and good will as a way to combat the hate and ignorance that seems to be more and more prevalent. Writing this story as well as all the others have been very cathartic for me because I get to control how people treat each other and speak to each other in them. I can control who thrives and who loses. I can control who loves and who just fades away. I hope to use some of the energy I put in to my writing for the greater good in a real world who could use more positive to drown out the bad.**

 **As always, thank you for sharing your time with me and thank you for your continued support!**


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